


Brine and Conjury

by neptunedemon



Series: Brine and Conjury [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: 1920s Technology, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Anxiety, Art, Coping, Drunken Shenanigans, FYI No Dogs Shall Be Harmed, Fairy Tale Elements, Falling In Love, Fantasy Violence, Historical Fantasy, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Light Angst, M/M, Magic, Minor Original Character(s), Original Universe, Survivor Guilt, Unreliable Narrator, War, slight PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-25
Updated: 2017-10-18
Packaged: 2018-10-10 15:51:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 85,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10441296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neptunedemon/pseuds/neptunedemon
Summary: Yuuri lives a modest, peaceful life with his family as they mind their town's only fishing pier. But the sea is ill with dark magic, and his family's days making a comfortable living seem numbered.When a stranger comes to town and fails to put Yuuri under a spell, he whisks him away to a broken kingdom across the sea; Yuuri consequently finds himself tangled within a complex chain of events surrounding a war fought between magic and civilization.





	1. Bottom Feeder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If I had one wish  
> Just a wish  
> Throw me in the water  
> 'Cause I wanna be a bottom feeder  
> -[Bottom Feeder](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vMv754OUsgU), Amanda Palmer

In a house by the sea. That was where he lived. Yuuri Katsuki was not a whole lot, or so he would have told anyone that would ask. His family rented out a small collection of fishing boats and sold fishing supplies – and that was the business. There wasn’t much, but it had always been enough; that was in question now, though, with the poisoning of the seas. Or so that’s what was assumed was occurring with the dead fish piling the shores and the small catches fishermen brought in. What poisoned the sea so? No one could really say for sure, but there were rumors of black magic and evil in kingdoms on land the ocean touched far, far away. It didn’t seem quite fair. 

It was bad for business, and so it was bad for Yuuri’s family. If one could not catch a fish to make a living, then one could not make a living letting people catch fish. 

“You may as well enjoy the rest of your day,” Yuuri’s father sighed. “I won’t be needing your help anymore today, I do not think.”

Yuuri looked up from where he was drawing lines in the sand, not being particularly useful as it was, but he immediately felt guilty. “I’m sorry,” he said. He stood up and wiped his hands together to shake off the sand.

“No, Yuuri, there’s nothing left to do.” His father idly tapped one of the smaller fishing boats, a small wooden thing dragged onto the sand for repairs, with his boot. Hands stuffed in his pockets, he continued, “If someone comes by today, they won’t have a large party with them. I can handle them on my own.”

Yuuri stared sadly at his father a moment. Then his eyes drifted past him, over the small boat they’d tugged to shore earlier, and out to the sea. It glistened in the afternoon light. The sun was well past halfway across the sky, and not a single person had come that day. Prime fishing hours were nearly past. 

The ocean stared back at Yuuri, ominous and silent as ever. For such a great being as it was, why did it not beckon to more people? Why was it not capable of defeating whatever evil lurked in its depths on its own? It whooshed calmly at the shore in a response Yuuri still didn’t understand. 

Yuuri sighed.

“I will go see if Mari needs my help. I think she’s making netting.”

His father hummed something of an agreement, and Yuuri turned from the dock and walked up the beach, bare feet sinking in the sand with each step. 

They lived in a small house at the top of the shore, which was dangerous during storms but easy for business. In fact, most of their business was dealt with within the confines of the walls of their home. The small town of Hasetsu was no evil one, though – and everyone thought well of the small fishing family near the sea. 

“Mari?” he called as he stepped in the house. He kicked his feet against the mat just inside their door in an attempt to shake sand off, lest he track in more than there already was inside a house built into the sand. His ankles itched slightly with the familiar agitation of dried salt. 

“In here,” she called. Mari was curled up on the couch in their living room, knees to her chest. She was working at a fishing net, weaving ropes together that were spread across the floor in front of her. Upon a single glance, Yuuri could see the redness of her fingers, raw from handling the coarse material.

“Need help?” he inquired. 

She shook her head. “Dad doesn’t need help, though?”

Yuuri redirected his gaze. “No, there isn’t enough to do.” 

She didn’t say anything for a second. And then: “You know what you could do? I don’t have enough rope to finish this net. Could you get some from town before dark?”

Yuuri fidgeted uncomfortably. He could handle any work around the house, the pier, the beach – but he did not like going to town that often. 

Mari likely sensed his discomfort, but she didn’t call him out on it. Instead, she supplied, “This way we will at least be prepared if someone comes first thing tomorrow.”

Yuuri nodded, feeling a little ridiculous. “Yeah, you’re right. And I’ll take Vicchan to keep me company.”

She smiled without looking up from her work. “Thanks, Yuuri.”

When Yuuri left the house again, Vicchan hopping excitedly at his heels, he saw his mother had joined his father outside, and they were deep in discussion. They silenced as soon as they saw Yuuri coming toward them, but he didn’t dare dwell long, and he let them know where he would be going before hurrying off, not wanting to hear their voices continue in the hushed, worried tones they often spoke in these days.

Town was such a contrast from the pier. By the sea there were few buildings and few people, and trading the never-ceasing white noise of crashing waves for voices, laughter, and doors slamming was always strange. Still, though, from observing things over the past 23 years of Yuuri’s life, he could tell the sickness of the sea was wearing down on the way of life here. Slowly, it was stealing energy. When the sea wasn’t well, the air wasn’t well – sickness was more common. The fish business drying up was forcing other meat trades into higher demand, which at first appeared a safe alternative – but poor planning had made the market unreliable and unpredictable. Not all those that had relied on fishing could easily switch to hunting in the mountains, and poverty had welcomed them. People left Hasetsu more often than they moved in now. 

Everything was connected. The people and the food and the air and the houses and the town and it all tied back to the sea, the way the sea made them feel, the way it inspired them to live – and it used to, always. But things were so different now. 

At the notion of people having moved on, Yuuri’s mind drifted to his old friend Phichit. Several years back, when the ocean was first showing its decline and the first week of poor fishing had occurred, his family had decided it was best to get ahead of any potential disaster. They had recently heard from travelers that there was plenty of work to be had in the land across the seas. They had left, forcing Phichit and Yuuri to commit to tearful good-byes with the knowledge they’d likely never meet again.

Yuuri was pulled from his reminiscence when Vicchan barked happily at something, and his yelp was immediately followed by a familiar voice. “Hey! Yuuri!”

He grinned. Ah yes, there was one good thing about coming into town: his friend Yuuko Nishigori. 

She stood outside the shop she ran with her husband, sipping something from a mug. It appeared she was low on customers today, too. 

“Yuuko!” Yuuri greeted happily, and Vicchan ran ahead of him to greet Yuuko with paws all over her.

“Hey there, buddy,” she greeted Vicchan warmly, petting behind his ears. 

Yuuri stepped onto the porch to the shop. “How is business today?” he asked. 

“Ohh, uh, you know,” she answered with a frown into her cup. 

Yuuko ran an art shop with her husband. They had three children, so there were a lot of mouths they needed to feed, but seaside art shops were iconic tourist destinations and they used to never have trouble with customers. But to have tourists, you needed to have people that wanted to travel to the coast.  

They offered art lessons, too – she and Yuuri had taken some together when they were kids and the shop was run by her parents. 

“Are you busy?” she asked, diverting the subject from business. “Because if you have a second, you should come on in.”

Yuuri smiled a small smile and nodded, and she led him inside, Vicchan bounding naively around their feet, excited at the many changes in scenery in one day. 

“You don’t have to let him inside,” Yuuri commented, but Yuuko dismissed him with a wave of her hand.

Yuuko’s husband, Takeshi, was wiping down shelves. Upon their entry, he turned and met Yuuri with a surprised smile.

“Hey, Yuuri! Haven’t seen you in a while.”

Yuuri rubbed the back of his head uncomfortably and cast his eyes to the ground. “Heh, yeah, it’s been some time.”

“Been painting?” Yuuri wished he didn’t notice they assumed he had been painting rather than working the docks. Nevertheless – it was true.

“Yeah actually,” he complied. And then to move the subject from himself: “Where are the kids?”

“Napping, thankfully,” Yuuko answered, running a hand through her hair in feigned exhaustion.

Vicchan sniffed at the corners of the shop as Yuuri walked slowly around the perimeter of the store. He and the Nishigoris chatted idly, and although the topic wasn’t addressed directly, Yuuri was able to surmise that sales were as scarce for art supplies and paintings as much fish were seemingly scarce in the sea.

He wished there was money to spare to buy something from them – a new brush, new paints – but he had stocked up long ago.

In the end he couldn’t help himself, and he bought a new brush anyway.

“You’ll have to visit again soon since the kids missed you!” Yuuko called as he headed toward the door.

Takeshi paused his new task of sweeping to comment on that. “We are serious about that.”

“Paint me something to hang in the window if you need something to do. We could use the advertising.”

Yuuri laughed, knowing his abilities weren’t good enough to win their shop any business, and called out his last good-bye.

The sun was setting now. Yuuri hurried deeper into town.

_I should not have taken so long in there_ , he thought, but the smile that had found itself on his features from seeing old friends did indeed make the detour seem worth it, even if his journey lasted slightly into the beginnings of dark.

The combination of age and a long day slowed Vicchan into a steady pace at Yuuri’s side as they headed toward the shop that sold tools and rope. Loyal as ever, Vicchan waited for Yuuri outside as he hurried in and back out, at coil of rope looped around his arm. Yuuri tugged it up to his shoulder and pet Vicchan a moment as praise, and they turned toward home.

The sounds of doors locking clinked from all directions as people closed up shop. Voices faded, and the twilight hurried on. Yuuri did not want to be caught in the oppressive sea of black that would blanket the town within the hour, and he quickened his pace. Likely sensing Yuuri’s tension, Vicchan hurried to meet his stride without complaint.  

Lights flickered out from shops, but thankfully those who lived above their businesses lit candles within their second floors, providing small glows of light to line the street. Yuuri passed a tavern, bustling with night owls buying drinks, and he was grateful for the large pool of light it cast from its window.  

The moment he was adjacent to an alleyway, someone yelled. Yuuri froze, looking about him for the source of sound.

He heard rapid whispering then, and his heart sank as he realized the sounds were coming from the alley. The light from the tavern that splayed across the road just barely crept its way into the narrow space between buildings. Yuuri’s own shadow was stretched long and menacing into its mouth. Vicchan growled lowly next to him.

He could barely make out the figure of a tall man hovering over a woman who was backed into a wall. He had a hand on her shoulder, and she moved awkwardly in an attempt to free herself, but he must have had a strong grip, for she hardly managed a fight. Yuuri’s heart beat fast as his eyes landed on the limp, gangly shape of another figure on the ground near the man’s feet.

They spoke.

“He won’t remember,” the man said, and his voice was thick with a foreign accent Yuuri had only heard from the days the seas brought sailors from faraway lands.

The woman attempted to speak, but her voice came out in a choked sob, and she made another futile attempt to escape.

“I’m not going to hurt you, not like he was going to,” the man attempted to soothe, but she didn’t seem calmed. He continued. “But…I’m sorry, I have to erase your memory, too. You can’t remember seeing me.”

The woman only managed the beginnings of a scream before the man had lifted a hand to her forehead, and the sound cut off.

Yuuri watched with wide eyes: a tiny but brilliantly bright ball of light began to grow from the man’s hand. Its light was white and it revolved with small, faint tendrils beginning to branch from it like something blossoming. The man slowly pressed his hand into the woman’s forehead, and the ball of light seemed to simply slide into her mind. He put his hand down and let go of her.

At first, she didn’t move. But slowly she turned… and walked away, toward Yuuri. His throat was dry and he tried to swallow to prepare to speak, but his muscles twitched uselessly, and his legs were lead. Even Vicchan had ceased to growl and now only stood behind one of Yuuri’s legs.

However the woman didn’t seem to notice, and she walked past them.

Magic! _Magic magic magic_ – the word stormed through Yuuri’s mind, it crashed like a wave and broke across his brain and woke him up – he only registered that the man had turned toward him and plaintively said, “Well _damn_ ,” before Yuuri found his feet and took off.

It was an exceptional flight response, but seconds later he was snagged back by a strong hand on his arm, the man having reached him impossibly fast. His shoulder ached with the strain of the tug.

“I’m sorry, I can’t let you go either,” the man said. He began pulling Yuuri into the alley. Somewhere, Vicchan was barking. Yuuri tugged and tugged and tried to free himself but the man’s hold on him was unnaturally stony. The man waved his hand and Vicchan’s barking ceased.

Yuuri’s heart jumped to painfully cut through his throat and give him a chance for voice at last: “My dog!” he yelled, and swat at the man’s arm. “What did you do to my dog?”

“I told him to go home,” the man said, and Yuuri registered a tired sigh in his voice. “Please don’t make this hard, this will only take a second, and then you can go home too.”

Once they had reached the edge of the tavern’s light, the man pressed Yuuri against the wall. In the dimness, Yuuri laid eyes on his captor. His features were cast in shadow, and in his panic Yuuri couldn’t gather much, but he had silver hair. Did it matter though? His memories of these past minutes were about to be erased.

It took Yuuri a moment to realize the man had paused, too, eyes taking in Yuuri’s face observantly. Yuuri struggled against his grasp, uncomfortable under the gaze and fearful of what was to come. The man snapped out of it, though, and grinned.

“I hate doing this, you know.” He lifted his hand to Yuuri’s face, and the same brilliant orb began to rise from it like before. Yuuri’s muscles went slack; he was immediately struck by the beauty of the light. It burned before him and his eyes hurt to stare so deeply into its core, but Yuuri was like a moth transfixed by lamplight.

And then the hand was coming toward his forehead, the sight so bright that everything around him was darkened and he could only see light. The man pressed his hand against Yuuri’s forehead, and for a moment he felt lightheaded, like he’d quickly stood up and had a moment of vertigo.

He waited.

Feeling slipped back into his muscles. The hand left his arm, freeing him.

He realized his heart was beating so loudly that it was a sickening force in his chest; his ears were ringing painfully.

But… he remembered?

A moment of wit struck Yuuri, and he knew his best chance was to pretend to have forgotten. Saying nothing, struggling under the calamity of a thousand questions, fears, and revelations parading through his mind, he slowly stepped from the man and out of the alley.

Vicchan was gone, and his anxiety only increased. He remembered the man had said he’d… sent Vicchan home. He could only hope he had told the truth. Slowly, feeling like a zombie, Yuuri walked at an excruciatingly slow pace the entire way to the beach. Not once did he stop the charade, for he could swear he felt the strange man’s eyes on him the whole way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and welcome. Thank you for reading this; please do let me know if it seems enjoyable! I'll post the second chapter not long from now to really get the ball rolling, and I have this whole story planned out, so it should run smoothly. Please join me on this journey!
> 
> Find me at [neptunedemon](http://neptunedemon.tumblr.com/) or [skateonme](http://skateonme.tumblr.com/) (main and side tumblr) <3


	2. What the Water Gave Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'Cause she's a cruel mistress  
> And the bargain must be made  
> But oh, my love, don't forget me  
> When I let the water take me  
> -[What the Water Gave Me](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XPfDXcszfak), Florence & the Machine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so grateful to those who read my first chapter and commented/kudo'd/subscribed! Thank you! Here is that quick-to-follow second chapter I promised. <3

Vicchan had been there when Yuuri returned. He had seemed confused but altogether unaltered and unharmed, and Yuuri was grateful for that.

His family had been about to leave in search of him, as they were much roused and in a fit of alarm at the lateness of the hour as well as their dog’s arrival without him. Yuuri was only able to manage a meager apology, drop the rope onto their table, notice the paintbrush was gone, and trudge to bed. The effects of shock and confusion had him crying into Vicchan’s side for a good part of the night until he fell asleep.

There was no sure way to tell how late the night had gone, but a crack of thunder snapped Yuuri’s eyes open, and a flash closed them again. A consequent boom followed the lightning. Rain pounded against the side of the house.

Yuuri rubbed at his eyes, and though the feeling of dried salt could have been mistaken for unwashed sea mist that had blown across his face, the memories of the previous night flowed back in. _Ironically so_ , he thought with a grimace. Why hadn’t the man’s memory charm worked? Was it all a joke?

The house creaked with a gust of wind, and the sound of the rain stopped for a second with the change in wind, and then it began pouring in sheets once more. Yuuri could hear the waves wreaking havoc on the shore.

Vicchan was curled up into his side, shaking slightly for fear of the storm. Yuuri covered him with a blanket and brought his knees to his chest. The window his bed was next to was facing the beach, and Yuuri slipped on his glasses and drew the curtains aside. He hoped to get a glimpse of how the boats tied to the pier were faring.

Yuuri wondered if his father had known about the storm and simply hadn’t had a chance to warn him the night before. Usually, the Katsuki family was attentive to changes in the weather that hinted at more violent days.

Yuuri waited for the next flash of lightning to let him see the dock.

The light outside flickered once, twice, and his heart froze over like ice the moment another boom of thunder roiled over the sea.

Someone was standing on the beach.

They were facing the sea.

Yuuri shook his head and took a deep breath to try to calm himself. _I have had an awful night, I am being paranoid,_ he argued with himself. _Plenty of people visit the beach at night._

He ignored the part of his mind that wanted to question the sanity of one who visits the water during such a storm.

Lighting flashed again, and the coldness in Yuuri’s chest spread like disease outwards, curling coldness into his muscles and locking them into place. Silver hair…

Yuuri let his curtains fall.

Why? Why was this happening?

Suddenly Yuuri was afraid of his parents waking up, or Mari, and them deciding to check the boats. What would happen if they ran into the strange man? What would he do to them?

Yuuri pulled the curtains back again – slowly, as if the man would notice a quick movement (Yuuri wasn’t sure he wouldn’t, somehow).

With the next flash of lighting, Yuuri saw the man hadn’t moved, but he registered other traits of his person. As much as was noticeable from flashes at a distance, at least.

He wore a purple trench coat, and it whipped madly in the wind. Somehow, it looked dry. 

Yuuri desperately wished he had not woken up. Or at least he hadn’t parted the curtains.

But as it was, he knew he had to do something. The man thought he didn’t remember his magic, which means he wasn’t going to use it on him. Yuuri cursed his more compassionate side that begged that maybe he _really meant no harm_ , as he had claimed to the woman in the alley. And it was true he had not actually hurt her.

Leaving Vicchan to the comfort of blankets, Yuuri left his bed and dressed in the nearest set of pants and shirt. He pulled on a jacket, and pulling it tight around him, he crept through the house, careful to not wake his family lest they become involved. He lit a candle and placed it into a lantern, making sure to latch its door completely shut.

He slipped on shoes and left the house. The wind nearly swept him off his feet in surprise, and Yuuri had to grab the door before it flung back on its hinged and slammed against the wall of the house. He shut it quickly.

Rain poured down on him, slapping his face and splattering his glasses. The light of the candle-lit lantern did not reach for against the sheets of water pouring from the sky, but lightning lit his world every few seconds. The man still stood facing the sea, seemingly unaware of his visitor.

Yuuri made his way down the beach. He tried to ignore how exposed he felt in the middle of the violent storm. And the sea was a frightening sight: the blackness of the sky bled into the dark of the water, and the illusion was suffocating, as if the entire world had been dipped in ink. The smothering feeling was relieved only with each flash, although light brought other issues –

“Uh, sir?” Yuuri yelled, trying to act like a concerned stranger. “Do you need help?” The lantern light cast the fainted glow across him.

The man glanced back at Yuuri but didn’t seem surprised to see him. Without a word, he turned back to watch the inky sea.

Hesitantly, checking he kept a safe space between themselves, Yuuri stepped next to the man.

“Are you okay?” he repeated, louder this time to ensure his voice wouldn’t be drowned by the storm.

Without looking, the man responded, “Why didn’t my magic work on you?”

Yuuri’s eyes widened. Already his pulse was quickening – he had stepped into this himself, he –

The man was watching Yuuri now, giving him an incredulous look. “Don’t panic,” he said, and there was something like a light tease in his tone, but it quickly hardened again. “I said it didn’t work, so you don’t have to worry about me trying something.”

Yuuri waited a moment as he calmed down. “How did you know?”

“I saw the moment you realized it yourself.” Surprising Yuuri with a grin, he added, “You were a good actor, though. It was a nice try. But I followed you all the way here, shooting all kinds of magic at you. And it all just… didn’t do a thing.”

“What?” Yuuri exclaimed, taking a step back. He had followed him? Sh-shooting magic?

The man looked at Yuuri with concern again. “ _Didn’t_ work,” he repeated. And then: “My name is Viktor, by the way.”

Viktor? Yuuri wondered what an exchange of names meant. He didn’t think someone who wanted so desperately to be forgotten would give someone their name.

“Yuuri Katsuki,” Yuuri answered before he could battle with himself over whether he really should tell him that.

“Nikiforov.”

“What?”

“Viktor Nikiforov.”

“Ohh, ah, yeah,” Yuuri said, and shivered as the cold rain began to make it through his clothes already. “Nice to meet you?”

Viktor didn’t answer for a moment. Instead, he merely continued gazing to the sea, eyebrows furrowed. _He must be in some deep contemplation to withstand the storm,_ Yuuri thought. Then he noticed again that Viktor's clothes were dry. His hair was, too. In fact, the rain seemed to be missing him completely. 

 _Magic_. He cast a longing gaze back at his house.

“Yuuri,” Viktor started, and Yuuri shivered again, though he wasn’t sure if it was the cold or the way his name sounded in Viktor’s accent and voice. He had turned to face him now. “There is one consequence of your gift of… safeguarding.”

“What is that?”

“I need you to come with me.”

“No,” Yuuri immediately argued, tensing to run.

Viktor shook his head sadly. “I’m sorry, but I need to understand you.”

“You can’t just –“ Yuuri started to protest, but Viktor was fast, and magical or whatever, and Yuuri found himself suddenly lifted off the ground. His lantern fell to the sand and the light quickly flickered out. Lightning flashed; he was in Viktor’s arms, and surprise kept him from struggling immediately.

“What are you doing?” Yuuri yelled, and in the darkness he felt Viktor shift as if beginning to run.

“Hold on to me tightly now,” a voice whispered near his ear, sending chills upon Yuuri’s already shivering form.

He had lost. Viktor had waited on the beach knowing he would come to him. The moment Yuuri had stumbled upon Viktor in the alleyway, that horrible chance upon fate, he had lost. Even when his memory failed to be erased, it was over.

Whatever was happening next was simply going to happen whether he struggled against it or not. And so Yuuri squeezed his eyes shut and wrapped his arms around Viktor’s torso, holding on for dear life for whatever strange magic was about to come. Lightning burned white against his eyelids; he felt Viktor run, felt the splash of sea water touch his dangling feet, water soaking through the fabric of his shoes. _Is he taking me into the ocean?_ Yuuri managed to think. Thunder slammed down, jarring his thoughts.

_What was to become of his life?_

 

* * *

 

 

It was also night on the other side of the ocean.

Viktor laid in the sand, out of breath. Strenuous use of magic, he’d said. He rubbed his temples with his eyes shut.

Yuuri sat next to him and patiently awaited his recovery.

There was no storm here on this night, and the shore was lit by a lively town aglow with activity. A contrasting parallel to little Hasetsu.

Yuuri hardly stared at it for long, though. Too much was his exasperation at being torn from his home. At least soon he would be immune to shock; some sort of wizard had carried Yuuri in his arms across the ocean in under a minute.

There wasn’t much else that could surprise him at this point.

He felt jaded, tired, abused. Dragging his knees to his chest, he rested his arms on them and buried his face.

 _Don’t cry right now_ , he coaxed himself. Just… _breathe_.

From next to him, Viktor groaned. “I have never carried someone doing that… that was sort of awful.”

 _I didn’t ask for you to bring me here,_ Yuuri avoided snapping. Instead he spoke nothing.

He heard Viktor stand up.

“We should probably get going.”

Yuuri didn’t move.

“Do I have to carry you to my house, too?”

Yuuri abruptly looked up at those words. “Your  _house_?” He scowled.

To his disbelief, Viktor grinned. “I think you’ll rather like it.”

Yuuri stared at him, jaw slack. Viktor offered him a hand, and to make a point of ignoring it, Yuuri hurriedly shuffled to his feet. “You know, I wouldn’t have told. No one would have believed me.”

“Maybe. But I need you here. I need to understand why my magic doesn’t affect you. It’s… important.”

“How?” Yuuri inquired, but Viktor shook his head.

“There’s too much to tell. I’ll explain things eventually, as time goes on.”

Yuuri wanted to ask what Viktor meant by _time_. But he figured he would be disheartened to hear the amount of time Viktor thought he could keep him for. Yuuri would find a way back to the other side of the ocean somehow.

Somehow, some way. He would.

 

* * *

 

 

They climbed the beach, and Yuuri took in the sight of the city before them. It was much larger than Hasetsu.

The place that stood some half-kilometer from the sea was unlike anything Yuuri had seen, and he found it hard not to be distracted by its wonder. Despite the late hour, each window glowed with light. But the lights were colorful, warm hues of orange and red and pink contrasted with mixes of blues and greens, like someone had taken the colors of a sun setting over the sea and tossed them across the buildings. Yuuri had never seen colorful lights before, and he wondered if Viktor used magic, how magical everything else here was.

People were everywhere, laughing and bustling and children roamed in colorful little outfits of a higher class than Yuuri had ever been privileged enough to witness. A dog barked, and his chest pained for Vicchan.

Music carried from multiple street corners, and Yuuri quickly grew tired of whipping around trying to find the source of the trumpets and saxophones and drums and whatever other instruments were beating a cheerful melody into the night.

Hadn’t he been going to bed an hour before?

“Does no one sleep?” he mused, and Viktor smiled as if expecting this.

“No, it’s just the weekend.”

“… Oh.”

He felt severely out of place. He pushed up his glasses as they began weaving through a more densely packed street. Sweat prickled at the back of Yuuri’s neck at the packing of so much body heat, and his heart picked up its pace. So many people breathing around him, over and under and against him, laughing and chortling and – _oof_ someone bumped into him, but he caught himself quickly – he felt he couldn’t breathe for himself, and the view of the ground lurched before him for a moment.

“Would you like a tart, sir?” someone asked in an overly-happy tone, pushing a plate of small cakes into Yuuri’s perspective. His stomach recoiled at the sickly sweet scent. He stuttered over what to say, not wanting to be rude but REALLY not wanting to accept the offer, but someone grabbed his wrist.

Yuuri turned hastily, but was relieved (relieved?! Agh, what a night) that it was only Viktor, who tugged him forward. “Don’t get lost now,” he muttered low enough so that Yuuri only barely heard, and he took the lead, pulling Yuuri through the crowd. The people seemed to unconsciously pull away from wherever Viktor stepped, and Yuuri felt like they were swimming through the sea of people with ease now. Or, well, it was more like a nasty, stagnant puddle of people, he thought with a grimace.

Viktor led him around a corner of a building. Seeing that there was a gap in the groups of people, he let go of his hand.

“Thank you,” Yuuri gasped, surprised to hear he was out of breath. “Can we – can we avoid crowds?”

Viktor was observing him with blatant concern, and Yuuri forced his own eyes to the ground, feeling embarrassed. But Viktor answered, “Of course.”

Relieved, Yuuri let himself raise his gaze again. Viktor was watching him hesitantly, and Yuuri realized he hadn’t seen him in proper light, face-to-face, until this moment.

He was… _extremely_ fair. If Yuuri let himself delve further into such thoughts at all, he would admit to extremely fair meaning extremely handsome.

His face was heating up now, but before he gave himself away in any fit of awkward spluttering that he was often destined to fall into, someone from a nearby group yelled. Viktor glanced their way, hair shifting delicately across his forehead. Yuuri swallowed hard, eyes back to the ground.

“We should go then,” Viktor finally spoke, and offered Yuuri his hand again.

Yuuri stared at it like he’d never seen a human hand before, now overly aware of Viktor’s attractive presence. He opened his mouth to speak but no words came to his aid, and the spluttering began.

“I—ah, I can walk,” he tried.

He refused to see what expression Viktor wore this time; he dropped his hand, though, and repeated his earlier sentiment with much amusement: “Don’t get lost then.”

Yuuri felt calmer once they were walking again. The voices and music began to fade behind them, and they only met with the occasional loner or couple straggling through alleyways.

Indeed, alleyways – Yuuri understood he had to sacrifice the interesting sights of the town if he wanted to avoid so many people, but he was grateful. Windows faced each other between the walls of these narrow corridors, and small amounts of light filtered through most of them, guiding their way through the dark.

However the more the city sounds faded, less and less buildings were awake, and it was becoming harder and harder to see.

Yuuri tripped on a stone jutting out of the cobbled pavement. He fell forward, face colliding with Viktor’s back; Yuuri involuntarily grabbed Viktor’s arms for support. He tensed and ceased walking, but Yuuri was already stumbling backward, arms in the air. “S-sorry!” he stammered, face so hot it was like he was back in the crowd again. “I can’t see well.”

Viktor was unfazed. “You should have spoken up sooner!” he said, and Yuuri saw his silhouette move, wrist flicking.

A small – but powerfully bright – ball of light erupted from the air. It hovered still for a moment in front of Yuuri’s wide eyes before fluttering onward in the direction they had been walking.

“Um, thanks,” Yuuri muttered, not yet used to the whole magic thing.

It led them the rest of the way to what Yuuri supposed was where Viktor lived, though it dissipated upon their arrival. He scolded himself for not paying attention to the directions they had walked from, but he was simply so exhausted and strained. His eye lids were heavy and agitated, and he caught himself in such deep, slow thoughts that he wasn’t positive he hadn’t drifted while walking.

Viktor’s “house” was a place above something that looked like a shop. Yuuri didn’t bother asking what the shop was for, figuring he would catch up on details on the morrow.

Viktor quietly led Yuuri around the side where a set of stairs took them to the top story, and there Viktor whispered, “I think everyone is asleep. It’ll cause a commotion if they wake up and see you tonight, so try to be quiet, okay?”

“Everyone?” Yuuri repeated, his exhaustion making his tone sharper than he had intended.

“Don’t worry, you’ll meet them tomorrow,” Viktor said, and Yuuri wasn’t sure if he was taunting him or missing the source of Yuuri’s vexation. 

The room they entered first was dark, but it appeared to be a combined kitchen and living area. Silhouettes of furniture stood against meager window light. There were several couches circling one another, snugly fit together. At the other end of the room a table was set up with several chairs, and Yuuri thought he saw the outline of a gas stove connected to a wall.

“We have a spare bedroom, but you can sleep wherever. Out here in the open, if it comforts you." Yuuri forced a laugh, and it sounded manic and frightened to his ears. He tried to take a deep breath, but it was ragged. He needed to calm down; it truly didn't seem as if he'd be harmed. Plus, he _was_ tired. His limbs felt like oak branches, heavy and creaking. 

“I’ll take the spare.”

Without another word, Viktor led him down a hall that branched off from the living area. Several doors lined both sides of the walls. Yuuri counted – three to the right, two to the left. They walked past them all, and at the end of the hall at the last one on the right, Viktor stopped in front of a door and twisted the knob.

“Here it is!” he said, hands on his hips.

The room was dark, of course, so Yuuri could see nothing. Maybe there was the outline of a small bed?

“Our main room out there has some electrical wiring, but none of the others do, so sorry about the dark. Also the sheets probably haven’t been cleaned in a while,” Viktor commented. “You really could just –“

“No, no!” Yuuri interrupted, stepping into the dark room. He was tired enough that he could have slept on the floor. What were dirty sheets to that?

“Good night!” he nearly yelled when Viktor seemed about to speak again, and he shut the door.

He managed to make it most of the way onto the bed before he was unconscious.


	3. You Wouldn't Like Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I feel like // I wouldn't like me // If I met me  
> I feel like // You wouldn't like me // If you met me  
> -[You Wouldn't Like Me](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SRUcCkQME2M), Sleeping at Last

"Good morning!"

Yuuri shot upwards at the sound of the vaguely familiar voice, but was immediately knocked back onto the bed by Vicchan bounding onto him.

"Vicchan?" Yuuri gasped through the dog's excited nuzzling and licking. His dog seemed heavier than usual, and something about the dimensions of the room he was in felt off; suddenly Yuuri wasn't quite sure where he was.

"Now that you mention it, she looks like him, doesn't she?" the voice said. Yuuri gently pushed the dog to the side and sat up again. He grabbed his glasses from next to his pillow and quickly slid them on.

 _Right_.

Viktor stood in the doorway of the unfamiliar room, and Yuuri remembered everything. The room he hadn’t looked at the night before was plain, empty: clearly hardly used. There was a bare dresser next to the door, light entering from a window next to the bedframe, and a door that presumably led to a washroom.

Yuuri noticed how dashing Viktor looked with a loose white shirt tucked into tight-fitting pants, hair done so perfectly with a delicate fringe falling across his face; some sort of pendant hung on a chain around his neck. Viktor had probably stood out as an oddity in Hasetsu. He was too pretty.

Though he could make everyone forget they'd seen him, Yuuri remembered grimly.

_Everyone except him..._

"That's Makkachin," Viktor said, nodding toward the dog. "Super friendly, as you can see."

Yuuri looked back at Makkachin; he'd jumped back onto the floor and was wagging his tail, sitting patiently in wait of attention.

"H-hey there," Yuuri said, and got off the bed to pet Makkachin. The dog immediately rolled over at the slightest touch, and Yuuri laughed and let himself pet him more thoroughly.

"So I thought you'd want breakfast," Viktor started, leaning against the door frame and watching Yuuri play with his dog in mild amusement. "And then you could meet everyone."

Yuuri's stomach twisted. "... Right."

"Don't worry!" Viktor tried to comfort him. "Yura and Yakov are good people."

Yuuri straightened up and began to stretch his sleep-heavy muscles. "Are they going to be okay with me being here?" He paused, then added, “Because you stole me.”

"They will be when they hear about why I did!" he said with an unnervingly excited glint in his eyes.

Even as they spoke, the alluring scent of breakfast foods had begun to drift into bedroom. The scent was thick and smoky, and Yuuri realized quickly he hadn't eaten in nearly 24 hours, for he had skipped eating food after being shaken by his run-in with Viktor the night before.

He sighed his acquiescence; Viktor's smile shone.

"Come on," he said, and Yuuri followed him through the hall and back into the main room, Makkachin padding along at their heels.

The living space was a lot larger in the light; it was.... quaint and homey, if Yuuri was honest. Shelves lining the room were stocked with books and figurines and littered with trinkets; stacks of books piled in front of the shelves. The couches were filled with decorative pillows, and colorful knit blankets were draped across their backs and arms.  A coffee table in the center was filled with papers and open tomes. There was a lot of stuff, but it was an organized chaos. It reminded Yuuri of his town's one antique shop.

The kitchen was similarly cluttered with bottles and jars on high shelves, but Yuuri didn't take in many details because he was immediately distracted by the pairs of eyes looking at him in surprise.

There was an older man sitting at one end of a table, fork stuffed with food halfway to his mouth. The man simply gaped at Yuuri wordlessly, his face purpling among its many creases and lines, and his eyes flickered to Viktor and he frowned, shaking his head.

The other person was a young boy with blonde hair past his chin. The boy took in Yuuri's appearance for a second. Then his face gradually colored a deep, angry red.

Yuuri understood immediately: Viktor had not warned these people of his presence yet _at_ _all_.

"Vitya..." the older man started, but the younger boy quickly interrupted.

"Idiot!" he yelled, and to Yuuri's horror, a porcelain jar flew off a shelf and smashed into a wall, all on its own. Bits of porcelain and food clattered to the floor. The old man winced, but the boy was unfazed.

"You brought a guy home last night?! With us in the house?!"

Yuuri felt heat rise to his cheeks. He wanted so badly to be anywhere but here, on the spot and intruding on these people's lives.

Viktor put his hands up defensively and waved away the accusation. "No, no!" he said, still sounding far too cheerful for the situation. "I found him in Hasetsu!"

"Vitya," the old man tried again as the young boy continued to seethe, "just -- why?"

"Magic doesn't work on him!" Viktor announced.

Everyone fell silent. Yuuri pushed his glasses up his nose, eyes on his feet.

"I tried to use a memory charm and, uh, several other spells. Nothing affected him."

The boy snorted loudly then, and dishes and silverware began to lift from the table.

"You're probably just not doing it right," the boy said, and utensils, plates, and bowls went flying toward Yuuri.

Yuuri only had time to register what was happening before Viktor snapped his fingers and it was over – the dishes clattered to the ground. Some dishes shattered, sharp and jagged pieces scurrying in all directions, and food splattered across the floor. Makkachin barked happily and started to lap up the food. The old man put his head in his hands and groaned.

"Yuuri can be _physically_ hurt," Viktor told the boy sternly.

" _Yuuri_?!" the boy spat the name out like it was the nastiest thing he'd ever heard. The table lurched forward in Yuuri and Viktor’s direction.

"Yuri, calm down," the old man snapped suddenly, and Yuuri was alarmed by the sound of his own name while still being stunned by the sharp objects that had nearly smashed into him.

"Yuuri," Viktor addressed him. "This is Yakov Feltsman and Yuri Plisetsky. Yuri and I are apprentices of Yakov's. Since your names are similar, you can call Yuri _Yura_."

"He canNOT!" Yuri yelled, and Yuuri committed it to memory that he would indeed _not_. 

"Vitya, are you sure you're right about this man?"

Viktor nodded. "Try something." He shot Yuri a look. "A charm or spell."

Before Yuuri could say _please, no, I would rather you all not_ , Yuri jumped out of his chair, an evil grin on his face. He lifted a hand and something red and smoky shot toward Yuuri. It bounced off him and dissipated. Yuuri's mouth twitched in an almost-laugh; it sort of tickled for a second.

"See? Have you ever seen anything like this, Yakov? What does it mean?"

Yakov slowly lifted himself from his chair and sauntered towed Yuuri, eyes roving over him studiously. Yuuri fidgeted, extremely uncomfortable.

"Have you ever messed with magic, boy?" he asked.

"Uh -- no."

More studying.

Then, finally, "I have no idea why this is. This must be some old magic at work."

"What should we do?"

Yakov shrugged and turned away, dismissing Yuuri with a wave of his hand. "Take him home."

Viktor pouted. "We could study him though."

Yakov ignored him, waving his hands. Plates and silverware lifted into the air and glided into the kitchen presumably to be cleaned. Yuuri watched in awe.

"You're so typical, Viktor," Yuri said. "He could be good for target practice though. Since nothing can hurt him."

Yuuri paled, but Viktor was shaking his head for him, albeit not as supportively as he should be in Yuuri's opinion. "No, but we could try to figure this out."

"Have you eaten?" Yakov asked. Yuuri didn't realize he was being spoken to at first, but when he noticed Yakov staring at him with narrowed eyes, he cleared his throat.

"Um, no, I haven't."

"Oh I bet what we have is so different than anything across the sea!" Viktor chimed in. He grabbed Yuuri's wrist and pulled him toward the kitchen. "Hopefully Yura didn't destroy all the food."

Viktor began filling a plate with eggs and meats and vegetables, more than what Yuuri considered typical breakfast portions, and shoved the plate into Yuuri's hands. Then he handed him a fork.

"Take a seat," he told him.

Yuuri glanced nervously at where Yakov and Yuri were at the table again. He had the sudden urge to cling to Viktor's side despite that he was a strange man he didn't know. He swallowed hard, mentally beat down the nerves, and walked to the table.

As soon as he sat his plate down and plopped in a seat, he said, "I'm sorry about this."

"Don't care," Yuri answered the same time Yakov said, "It isn't your fault."

Wonderful.

Viktor sat down across from Yuuri and dropped Makkachin a piece of food before taking his own first bite. Yuuri smiled at that, familiar with the ways of tossing beloved pets scraps as well.

The food was delicious, and it ALMOST distracted Yuuri enough for him to forget about Yuri's piercing gaze. He didn't really know what he did to irritate the young guy so much. He glanced at Yakov only to meet that same studious, unwavering gaze. Yuuri looked back to his food quickly but could feel the eyes remain on him.

Viktor talked of Hasetsu and random things he had seen on his trip, cheerfully ignoring the tension at the table.

"-- and then I realized the man was attacking the woman, so I had to do something."

"You shouldn't get involved in these people's lives, Vitya."

"But that's how I met Yuuri. Hey, Yuuri, what were you doing before I met you?"

Yuuri's brows furrowed at the notion of _met_ , as if they'd casually found each other on the street. But he answered with eyes staring at his food. "I was picking up some stuff for my family.”

When he didn’t continue, Viktor pressed him. “Like what kind of stuff?”

Yuuri flushed slightly. “Rope. For fishing nets. We run Hasetsu’s fishing pier.” He was very aware of how unappealing that must sound to these people, but to his surprise, Viktor leaned forward even more.

“Oh, wow, that explains why your house was right on the beach.” Yuri interrupted with a, “You went to his house?!” but everyone ignored him, and Viktor continued, “That’s amazing. So you’ve basically spent your life by the sea?”

At the adjective “amazing” being used to describe his life, Yuuri found his blush deepening madly. “It’s not that amazing. But I guess so.”

Yakov broke his silence: “How has the business been these days?”

Yuuri shifted awkwardly in his seat, embarrassed to answer this, too, but aware that Yakov is only asking because somehow he already knows the answer.

“Not – not good, really.”

Silence.

And then, “It’s getting bad,” from Yuri.

“What is?” Yuuri asked.

“Vavara the witch’s evil deeds is what,” Yuri grumbled before anyone could stop him.

“So magic IS the reason?” Yuuri gasped.

Viktor tilted his curiously. “Is that what your people have believed?”

“S-sort of, I mean. Fish don’t migrate regularly anymore, and the ocean air makes people ill-spirited these days. No one knows what else to blame, but back when sailors came in more regularly, they spread rumors of problems across the sea.”

Yuuri’s interest piqued now that the conversation was something about his homeland and people, but as he stared around the table, everyone seemed reluctant to speak. Yakov, Viktor, and Yuri glanced between themselves, looking concerned.

“Please tell me what’s wrong,” Yuuri tried.

Viktor sighed. “It’s just that – it’s sort of a lot.”

Yuri scoffed. “Not really, you’re just dramatic.” He turned to Yuuri. “It’s sort of like… I guess you haven’t heard of Vavara?”

Yuuri shook his head.

“So she is a witch, a really powerful one, and she is goddamn awful. The forest that begins at the edge of our city, well, we are technically a part of the kingdom on the other side. But we are sort of at war.”

“A civil war?” Yuuri nearly choked on his food.

Viktor picked up the story. “Unfortunately so. You see, our side of the kingdom has adapted to nature and magic much more than the other half. This already created an issue with religion and politics, but then Vavara came along. She’s actually… she’s actually…” his voice trailed off as if he were struggling to find words.

“She is our queen, technically,” Yakov added grimly.

“What?!”

Yuri slammed a fist on the table. “It’s vile! She put the king under a spell, seduction magic, she –“

“We don’t know that for sure,” Viktor pointed out.

“Damn it all! Of course we do!” A book flew off one of the shelves at the other end of the room, and Yuri took a deep breath in attempt to calm himself.

“Well, anyway,” Yakov continued. “She preaches an end to magic. You should know that our half the kingdom is called Clarusilva. The other half is Clarufretus, and we make up the Kingdom of Amorglaci.” He cleared his throat. “Clarusilva Forest is ancient and a source of deep, old magic that helps sustain our people. Many of the people here actually utilize plants and herbs grown inside it for potions, and the energy within it is vital for charging sigils and balancing chakras, and –“

Yuuri was staring wide-eyed at Yakov, mesmerized by his terminology. This was like an entirely different world, and it had only been a leap of saltwater away.

“He doesn’t know what you’re talking about,” Yuri muttered.

Not wanting to appear ignorant, Yuuri protested, “No! I’m following, I am. So if this… Vavara is a witch, why does she want to end magic?”

Viktor cleared his throat. “That we don’t quite understand, but we assume she wants power. With the king obeying everything she says, she is extremely influential. She depicts our city as traitorous, devilish, and unjust. The idea is that if the entire forest is destroyed, our magic will be weakened to a state of mere nonexistence, and we also won’t have anything to separate the kingdom and we will be… reabsorbed.”

“They believe she will give up her own magic if they win,” Yuri added with a clenched fist.

Yuuri closed his eyes in disbelief. How wretched! But… “What does this have to do with the ocean though?”

“The ocean is another source of magic,” Viktor informed.

“So she targets it, of course,” Yakov sighed. “They drag all cut down, charred, or killed life – be it trees or animals – that they don’t need as resources and toss them into the sea. Since they avoid magic, the kingdom is trying to industrialize. They burn fuels and things leak into the waters because of carelessness, and Vavara adds her own deadly poisons to the waters as she knows it weakens us. We fight to put protective charms around the forest, we attempt to heal the waters, but she breaks through eventually, and all they have to do is destroy _things_ to harm _us_.”

Viktor adds, “And it isn’t really just the pollution. It’s the negative energies, the dark magic, which comes with it.”

Yuuri opened his mouth to speak but he struggled to find words. That was… more awful than he wanted to believe.

Yuuri thought of the people in his dying town. His family that was becoming increasingly concerned with being able to afford the house another year. His father dismissing him from work because there was simply _nothing to do_.

Someone knocked on the front door.

“I bet I know who that is,” Viktor exclaimed, jumping up from his seat. Yuuri continued to stare into his food, no longer desiring another bite, thoughts consumed by anxiety for the fate of his family if this Vavara person continued her dark work. Vaguely he heard the door swing open and Viktor begin talking to someone.

“Ahh, come in!”

“Do I have some NEWS for you guys,” a male voice spoke, and it was oddly familiar, like a voice he had heard long ago, but altered by time. But he didn’t look up, preferring to avoid an awkward introduction. He had enough of those for a lifetime now.

The voice continued. “I could hardly wait to finish publishing today’s periodicals before – who is that? Is that -- Yuuri Katsuki?”

“It… is?” Viktor responded in confusion. Yuuri looked up -- his jaw went slack.

A boy near his age stood a few paces beyond the front door, arms full of newspapers. He was as familiar as his voice – someone from long ago, changed slightly by time, and Yuuri could not believe it.

“Phichit!” Yuuri exclaimed, jumping from his chair fast enough to knock it onto its back.

His old friend dropped the papers to the floor and ran toward him; Yuuri met him halfway and they embraced, voices tumbling around in words of disbelief and awe.

“What are you doing here?” they both asked at the same time.

Phichit shook his head, holding his friend an arm’s distance away now. “I live here, have lived here since the day I left Hasetsu. What are YOU doing here?”

“I—I—“ Yuuri started, but he glanced at Viktor in hesitation. He… what? Got kidnapped?

But it’s like Phichit and he never stopped being together; he immediately seemed to understand Yuuri’s unspoken words. He whirled around to face Viktor.

“I told you long ago there was nothing to help us in Hasetsu! Why did you still go?”

Viktor had been watching them in deep confusion and a hint of something Yuuri couldn’t put a name to, but he was revived by the accusation. “I did find something to help, though. A someone: Yuuri!”

Phichit turned back to Yuuri, eyes narrowed. “But Yuuri can’t do anything to help us, can he? I mean don’t get me wrong, you’re great, Yuuri! But… what?”

Yuuri shrugged sheepishly. “I guess I’m… immune to magic or something.”

Phichit let go of him finally; his hands flew to cover his mouth. “No way!”

“I don’t really get it,” Yuuri added quickly.

“None of us do!” Yuri exclaimed from behind.

“That’s amazing, Yuuri!” Phichit praised and tossed his arms around his friend again. “But it’s so good to see you.”

“You too, you too,” Yuuri assured him, and he meant it. Of all the things he would imagine finding out here, Phichit was not one of them. “I never thought I’d see you again.”

“So old friends, I guess?” Viktor asked, practically poking his head between their hug.

Phichit nodded. “We grew up together until my family came here.”

“We need to catch up,” Yuuri suggested.

Phichit sighed irritably and glanced at the stack of papers on the floor. “We do. But I’m on the job right now. I just stopped by to deliver a paper and talk a minute. How long will you be here?”

“He’s leaving now,” Yuri stated flatly. Yuuri hated himself for it, but he began to reconsider things. He desperately didn’t want to miss this opportunity with his friend, nor did he want to keep his family in the state of worry they were likely in.

Viktor wrapped an arm around Yuuri’s shoulder and pulled him into his side. Yuuri stumbled awkwardly to lean against him. “Unless you want to stay one more night,” he teased.

“Actually – if it means getting to catch up with Phichit, could I?” he asked, dropping all discomfort in his joy at finding his friend.

He was vaguely aware of Yuri making a strangulated sound from behind them, but he ignored it.

“Yes!” Viktor exclaimed happily, and Phichit clapped his hands in excitement.

“Today I’ll finish all my work for today _and_ tomorrow so that I can spend the whole day with you tomorrow, Yuuri,” he said. He quickly scooped up his paper stack and began backing toward the door, leaving a paper tossed on the living room table.

“Didn’t you have something to tell us?” Yakov called.

“It can wait! See you soon, Yuuri!” And with that, Phichit ran out the door.

Yuuri’s outlook on life had brightened immensely. Phichit! Of all people! A hundred questions were dumping themselves into his mind. About this place, Phichit’s life, the war he just learned about. Hearing everything explained by his best friend would surely make things make much more sense than they did now.

But there was one thing.

“Thank you for letting me stay another night,” Yuuri said, turning to his three hosts and bowing slightly. “But,” he started, looking at Viktor, “is there a way to contact my parents? They’re probably worried.”

Viktor grinned and lifted his hand. Something white and round soared over from the kitchen, and he caught it gently.

It was an egg.

“Yes,” Viktor said. “Write them a letter, and I’ll just send it like this.” He clapped his hands together, and when he pulled them apart, the egg was gone.

Yuuri stared in amazement for a second. But then he frowned. “Viktor, did you just send that egg to my parents?”

For a moment he looked surprised, but his expression slackened into a grin. “Oh, yeah, I guess I did.”

“Don’t waste eggs, Vitya,” Yakov muttered lowly, sounding defeated.

Yuuri sighed. How would he survive another night here?

 

* * *

 

 

“So what are you good at, Yuuri?” Viktor asked after breakfast had been cleaned up.

Yakov and Yuri had left, therefore it was just he and Viktor. And Makkachin.

“What do you mean?”

Viktor sat on one of the couches, dragging his feet onto the cushion and grasping a book in his hands.

“Well, I figured if you had some sort of talent we could find a way for you to help us.”

Yuuri ran his hands through his hair. He didn’t know what to answer with, because the truth was that he wasn’t particularly good at anything. To delay responding, he sat onto one of the other couches. He was holding a piece of paper and a quill with the intention to write to his parents, although he was struggling to decide what to say.

_Hey Mom, Dad, Mari, Vicchan: got kidnapped, don’t worry, be back soon. Don’t try finding me, either; was teleported across the ocean. Imagine that! Take care, Yuuri_

Yeah, he was going to have to think through this one for a while.

He sighed. “Nothing.”

Viktor looked at him incredulously. “Nothing?”

Yuuri shrugged. There was no need to be bashful about his lack of uniqueness in a place like this. Everyone was magical and vibrant and he hadn’t seen much of Clarusilva yet, but from the glimpse the previous night, he was sure he blended in quite well with the cobbles of the road.

“Well until you figure out what you’re good at, you can clean.”

“Wait, what?”

Viktor smirked. “Just let me know when you’re ready.”

“I’m – ready for what?”

Viktor didn’t answer directly, but perked up in sudden remembrance of something. “Oh! I almost forgot.” He made a scene of twirling his fingers, and something appeared in his hand. He held it out to Yuuri. “This is yours?”

“Oh!” Yuuri piped up. “The paint brush I bought!” He took it from Viktor’s hand, examining it. Sure enough, it was the one he had bought from Yuuko. “Where did you find it?”

“You dropped it trying to run from me,” he said. “So your talent is painting?”

Yuuri laughed. “No, not at all. I’m not good.”

Viktor sat back, seemingly unimpressed. “Is that your opinion or everyone else’s?”

Yuuri shook his head sadly. “Trust me, I’m nothing special. You’re probably not used to normal, boring humans being around.”

Viktor raised an eyebrow. “Normal and boring? That’s harsh.”

Face reddening, Yuuri said, “Well, do you not feel that way?”

Viktor set his book on the table and shifted in his seat so that he could lean on the arm nearest to Yuuri’s couch. “Tell me more about what your family does,” he asked.

Yuuri laughed lightly. “I said all there was to say.”

“Think back to before the sea was sick,” he said. “What was it like then?”

Yuuri wanted to protest and tell Viktor he didn’t need to humor this poor commoner’s soul, but the way Viktor was leaning forward and watching him with an intrigued, interested gaze was quite convincing.

Yuuri sat back, setting pen and parchment down for later. “Okay,” he started. “Those were actually the really good days in Hasetsu. Imagine this…”

And Viktor listened, and the glint of interest never left his eyes, and Yuuri felt valued despite all he did not have to offer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our villain is an OC because you just... can't make any of the sweet YOI babies such problematic antagonists, yunno?


	4. Running with the Wolves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Go row the boat to safer grounds  
> But don't you know we're stronger now  
> My heart still beats and my skin still feels  
> My lungs still breathe, my mind still fears  
> -[Running with the Wolves](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=34o4voL1Lw8), Aurora

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I added excerpts from the songs that inspired the titles of each chapter to the previous chapters, and will do so for all future chapters!

Yuuri slept restlessly the next night.

He had washed the sheets of the guest bed and was able to comfortably burrow into the blankets. With the light off, he tried to imagine he was back in Hasetsu. He told himself the sounds of the city were merely the crashing waves of the ocean. It wasn’t working: doors slammed, shouts echoed, dogs barked.

He sighed and he tossed and he turned.

A small part of him wished Makkachin was with him; he had slept next to Vicchan almost his entire life, and it was strange to be in bed without something warm beside him. He wondered if Vicchan was still sleeping in his bed, patiently waiting for Yuuri to return.

Yuuri also thought of everything he had learned that day about Clarusilva. He thought of Yuri and his poorly controlled magic, Yakov and his disapproving glares, and Viktor and his blind insistence upon everything. Yuuri felt much like a crab in the presence of beautiful fish. Or a catfish, even – something that dwelled in murky depths, unattractive and clunky, steering clear of the bright waters above. Everyone had lived so much, even Yuri in his smaller number of years, and Yuuri felt the struggle to compare like a wound he couldn’t hide.

He thought of Phichit, though, and smiled. After tomorrow and his day with Phichit, he could go home to a normal place with normal people and pretend he never witnessed so many amazing things. He could go back to feeling adequate.

Eventually Yuuri became aware of gaps in his train of thought where he must have begun to drift, and he held onto the emptiness in those spaces until finally, somehow, he slept.

 

* * *

 

 

Yuuri didn’t know what to do with himself in the hours before Phichit arrived, so he took Viktor’s request seriously and started to clean. No one questioned him as he wiped down counters and dusted bookshelves.

His entertainment was listening to Yakov lecture Viktor and Yuri. But... mostly Yuri. 

“Yuri, you can’t put so much emotion into your magic,” Yakov scolded. “You’ll wear yourself out.”

“I know that,” Yuri growled. “I’m not trying to be angry.”

As Yuuri wiped a cloth across a shelf on the bookcase, the books on that level began to tremble slightly. He hardly jumped away in time before they all tumbled onto the floor.

Yakov sighed. “This is what I’m talking about. When your emotions are heightened, you let your magic run loose.”

“It’s hard to FOCUS with him moving around us, though!” Yuri spat blame and pointed toward Yuuri, and Yuuri flinched.

“I can go somewhere else,” he offered meekly, ashamed to have been in the way.

“Do you think,” Viktor started, “that in the heat of battle the enemy will not be trying to distract you?”

Yuuri turned away to reshelf the books and overheard Yuri mumbling swears under his breath.

“Can you just… show me again, Viktor?”

Yuuri turned just enough to watch whatever magic Viktor was about to perform. A bowl of water sat on the table in front of everyone. Books and papers had been pushed to the side to give it more space than what seemed necessary.

Viktor took a deep breath and lifted his hands, and then he began to move them in careful, delicate motions.

As water slowly lifted from the bowl, he narrated, “When you’re moving water, you have to be calm. You’ll feel it wanting to disperse – to pull apart and fill its container, but you have to _make_ the container.”

The water started off as a gelatinous mass hovering over the table; Yuuri’s eyes widened, though, as it began to stretch into smooth shapes: cylinders, squares, prisms. It was like flexible glass, beautiful and transparent.

Viktor glanced at Yuuri, and Viktor's face tinged pink when their eyes met; the shape quivered and a few drops of water spilled out, speckling the table. Yuuri quickly turned away, feeling bad to have distracted yet again.

“Do I really need to be able to do this?” Yuri whined, sounding wholly unimpressed by the spectacle that Yuuri found captivating.

“Yes,” Yakov answered flatly.

“Fire is much easier, though,” he continued to complain, and Yuuri heard the familiar crackling of a flame. Again, he looked back at the group on the couch, pushing up his glasses.

Yuri had ignited a ball of fire burning on seemingly nothing but oxygen, and he gazed at his own creation like it was the greatest thing in the world.

“No fire in the house!” Yakov reprimanded, and Yuri rolled his eyes and let the flame pitter out. He looked up and caught Yuuri watching, but before he could manage to comment, Yuuri said, “That’s amazing.”

Yuri’s face flushed a shade darker but he still managed to look disgusted by the comment. But he decided not to respond and turned back to the other two. “I’ll try it with the water later. I need a break.”

Yakov’s eyes widened as if that had surprised him, but he nodded.

Viktor looked up suddenly. “I think Phichit is here,” he said, and then someone knocked.

Excitement immediately flooded Yuuri at the arrival of his friend. “Impressive,” he commented boldly on Viktor’s prediction, and quickly walked to the door.

“Yuuri!” Phichit exclaimed upon seeing him, and they hugged again. “I am so excited about this, I don’t know how to express it. It was so hard to work yesterday.”

Yuuri grinned, nodding, very familiar with the anticipation. He turned back to the others and saw Viktor leaning against the kitchen table.

“I’ll be back later, I guess,” Yuuri said.

Viktor nodded. “Take your time. When you get back, we can discuss me taking you home.”

Yuuri hesitated, realizing he had already forgotten he was going home today. “Oh, right, of course.”

 

* * *

 

 

The first place Phichit took Yuuri to was a small coffee shop. It was a ten minute stroll from Viktor's place, and this time Yuuri was able to absorb his strange new surroundings without darkness and confusion clouding his sight. Plus, the familiar comfort of his friend by his side kept the wave of anxiety at the number of people around at bay, and it only swept upon him occasionally like a small wave lapping at the shore, quickly ebbing back out to sea with the drag of gravity. 

The people on the streets were less rowdy than during the night; they shopped and chatted and minded themselves. Yuuri could almost imagine it was just a bigger Hasetsu, but there was an undeniable energy in the air that wasn't normal to his own senses. Yuuri realized it had the same feeling that filled the room when Yuri's magic was sending dishware flying, or when Viktor calmly performed a miracle like controlling water. 

 _Magic_. 

He looked around for anyone obviously using magic, but everything had the facade of normality. He thought of what he had learned about Vavara and the forest and wondered if magic was just ingrained in everything here in small ways. Again, he attempted to parallel Clarusilva to Hasetsu. In his hometown, salt clung to the wood of buildings and sand blew through the streets, leaving traces of the shore everywhere. Even inside houses and stores, the faintest scent of brine lingered. And you never had to be too close to it to hear the lullaby of ocean waves floating above the cacophony of everything else. The sea was embedded within all, exhaling itself into life and inanimate objects alike.

If magic existed like that, but instead of tangible traces it was an energy or presence that could be harnessed and bent, maybe Yuuri understood this world more than he thought he could. _I'll have to ask Viktor questions later_ , he thought with a spark of excitement, but remembered yet again he was meant to leave today. 

Seated across from one another in the cafe, Phichit cleared his throat. 

"So tell me again," he said, wild hand gestures matching his tone of disbelief, "Viktor kidnapped you."

"Yes, exactly that."

"You didn't give any consent to come here with him, anything that he might have misread?"

Yuuri laughed. "If you mean trying to run away from him then maybe so."

A smile flickered on Phichit’s face, but he kept serious. "I'm so sorry, Yuuri."

Yuuri tilted his head thoughtfully. "It's okay, you know. I got to see you. And all this," he gestured to the space in the cafe, but knew Phichit would know he meant ALL of this world, "and I realize I don't know how I would have lived not being aware of it all."

Phichit nodded to show his understanding. "Still, though. What will you do when you go back? Will you tell anyone?"

"I -- I don't know. Yuuko, maybe. Or Mari? Or I always went to Minako for advice when I was younger. But then I think, what can knowing really do for them? It'd probably be easier to sort of forget."

Phichit furrowed his eyebrows in concern and opened his mouth to speak, but a waiter interrupted him. 

"Here's your coffee, gentlemen," he said cheerily, plopping two steaming mugs on the table. 

Yuuri smiled a thanks and turned back to Phichit. "Are you sure there's no way I can pay you? I didn't think about not having money here."

Phichit rolled his eyes. "Oh Yuuri, you haven't changed much."

Grinning at that, Yuuri muttered a sheepish "thanks," and then thought of something important. 

"Oh! Do you know anything about a... war here?"

His friend's eyes widened a considerable amount, and the cup he had brought halfway to his mouth was quickly set back onto the table with a sloshing of hot liquid that made Yuuri worried it’d spill onto Phichit’s skin. 

"They told you about that?"

"Oh, yeah? Is it a secret? I won't tell anyone back in –"

"No it's fine, it's fine," he said quickly, sitting back. "I just think it was sort of unfair. That's heavy stuff, and they expect you to just... take that and leave?"

Yuuri laughed a little nervously. "Well they can't erase my memory."

Phichit didn't smile this time; in fact, a look of realization crossed his features that made Yuuri's stomach churn. 

"Viktor, he didn't -- he didn't ask you to do anything for the war, right? I know he implied that but he isn’t seriously making you do something?"

"What?" Yuuri laughed at the incredulity of the remark. "No, of course not. I can't do anything."

Phichit seemed to relax at that. "Okay," he complied, and took a successful sip of his coffee. Yuuri did the same, and he was surprised by the hint of mint and chocolate in the flavor. He hadn't noticed Phichit order it for him. He looked at Phichit with a smile. "You remembered?"  

Phichit only grinned, and Yuuri felt a pleasant pang of affection for his dear old friend. 

"So," he started, wanting to turn the conversation in a more pleasant direction. "What do you do here?"

"Ah, yeah!" Phichit fidgeted excitedly in his seat as he welcomed the topic. "I am a journalist. Like, news journalist. Mostly these days I report on the uh, war and all. I don't usually deliver, but I do for Viktor and a few others in the city the day before new publications are released to the public to make sure they receive the latest updates as soon as possible."

"Wow, that's pretty big," Yuuri commented. He genuinely meant it, remembering his friend was three years younger than him. "You must be pretty informed about this place."

Phichit nodded slower, and he spoke with restraint. "That's not always good these days. BUT! I get to use a camera."

"Oh," Yuuri said, and easily pictured one of the big, clunky box things that captured stills of life, like his paintings but without the color and imagination. 

"I should get a picture of us together before you leave!" Phichit exclaimed suddenly, leaning into the table. "Celestino wouldn't mind. I'll take you over to the office later today!"

"Celestino?" 

"Oh yeah, he's my boss."

"I've never had my picture taken," Yuuri mentioned with a small smile. "That sounds cool. Could I get a copy, too?" 

"Hm. It'll take a bit for it to develop but you know, I could get Viktor to do something and have it sent to you."

Yuuri enjoyed the thought of one day weeks later having a photo of him and his best friend appearing out of thin air. 

"Hey, so, what is Viktor to Clarusilva anyway?" Yuuri asked. "What does he do? Something important I guess if he's first on the mailing list for the news."

Phichit narrowed his eyes. "So he tells you about the war but not himself? Still has some modesty, I see."

Interest was piqued now, and Yuuri waited for Phichit to continue. 

"Viktor is basically general of the Clarusilva’s army. I mean none of it is really _official_ , he fell into the placement of leader because he's a good one. And charismatic and probably the greatest wizard in miles around. Everyone sort of loves him around here."

When Phichit’s eyes met Yuuri's again and he saw the blank, surprised state of his expression, he shrugged. "I can't believe he didn't tell you. Don't let it freak you out. He's good! Just a little confusing at times."

Yuuri thought. He thought about the strange man who went to his town across the sea, stole him away, asked him to share a bed with him on multiple occasions in an entirely weird manner, let Yuuri clumsily saunter around his home... it didn't sound like the actions or characteristics of someone leading half a kingdom into a civil war. Then he realized the weight that must be on the shoulders of this seemingly-nonchalant person. And he felt... guilty? Guilty he was just going to up and leave, leave a place falling into war, make someone take him home that couldn't turn away because this was what his life was.

"Yuuri?" 

He blinked. "Sorry," he muttered. He took a sip of his coffee. It had cooled a great deal since it arrived, as he kept forgetting to drink it despite it being delicious. "I'm just surprised."

"Finish your drink, and then let’s take a walk. We can see Celestino for that picture later." Phichit flashed a brilliant smile, and Yuuri's worries were smothered a bit longer. 

 

* * *

 

 

Phichit walked Yuuri to the sea. The noise of the city was so loud that he hadn't realized they were traveling toward it until they were nearly there and the sweet, salty scent of seawater hit him. 

The beach was crowded. 

But things were odd. 

People sat near the water's edge; some were laying down, some crossed their legs or sat with their knees to their chests. They all looked deep in concentration, most with their eyes shut, and Yuuri realized they were meditating. Farther out, wading in the water until it rose to their waists, he could see people standing in the sea. They appeared to be performing some sort of ritual, moving their arms in similar, graceful manners. He saw someone toss something powdery into the water. 

"They're purifying the water," Phichit answered the look of wonder Yuuri expressed. "It's not permanent but it helps." 

"Do they do that with the forest too?"

"Sort of. It's more like they cast protective charms on it. You could ask Viktor, he obviously knows more about the specifics."

Wordlessly, Yuuri sat onto the sand. Phichit joined him but said nothing, letting Yuuri contemplate peacefully. 

He watched.

The water receded briefly, then swelled at the breath of another wave; inhaling, the water rose, pulled upward by that unseen force Yuuri was so familiar with. The water curled so gracefully that the world slowed down, knowing it always needed to give time for someone to take in the beautiful phenomenon of a wave. And then it plummeted, the sound of the crash a loud exhalation of the sea, and the water reached up the shore toward Yuuri only to exhaust inches from where his feet were buried. The water was dragged back into the sea to try again. 

Of all the overwhelming differences between here and Hasetsu, at least the waves sounded the same. 

Yuuri could imagine his house at the other end the unfathomably vast expanse of water, existing even though he couldn't see it; the waves crashed on that shore, too. The same water that was being aided by the people of this city, the same water being fought for by Viktor. 

Something settled in Yuuri. He felt it like a stone being set inside him, firm and decisive, heavy with the burden of change but anchoring him here nevertheless. 

He didn't think about the words. He didn't need to, because the decision was final in this moment – and there was not much that could change his mind. Part of him knew he would question himself later, doubt his logic, but he figured he could just come back to the shore if those anxieties threatened to overtake him.

"I'm staying."

Phichit didn't answer right away. He let another wave crash, pull up the shore, then back down. And another. This time the water kissed the tips of Yuuri's toes poking through the sand. He pressed his feet into the touch idly. 

And finally: "I know."

Yuuri raised his eyebrows in surprise but didn't move his eyes from the water. "How?"

"You're a good person, Yuuri. As soon as I knew you had found out about what happens here, you would either stay, or you would leave and wrestle with the guilt forever. I took you here to give you an extra push."

Yuuri smiled. How had years passed between them with no communication, yet it seemed liked no time at all?

"Thank you," he said, face growing warm. And then he sighed. "I don't think there's anything I can do. But maybe I'll figure something out?" He hadn’t meant for it to be a question, but his lack of confidence bled easily into his voice.  

Phichit placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "You're going to figure it out."

 

* * *

 

 

Yuuri and Phichit enjoyed the rest of their day speaking of more casual things. Phichit told stories of Clarusilva and asked Yuuri endless questions about his family back in Hasetsu. He was happy to hear Vicchan was still living strong and that the Nishigori art shop was still there.

They walked around until Yuuri’s feet began to protest, although he didn’t dare complain. Phichit bought Yuuri several more treats throughout the day – goodies like pastries and candies unique to Clarusilva – and Yuuri continued to insist he would find a way to earn money and pay his friend back.

Eventually they had gotten around to visiting the place where Phichit worked, a place simply called Claru-News. He met Celestino, who had immediately recognized Yuuri as a stranger to the city, but was overjoyed to hear that Yuuri and Phichit were longtime friends and from the same faraway town. He happily used the company camera to take a picture of the two together, although it was less dire to do so since Yuuri would be staying a while.

By then, the sun was lowering in the sky. Phichit walked Yuuri back to Viktor’s house, which Yuuri was extremely grateful for because he still wasn’t comfortable with his sense of direction in the new place.

A notion Yuuri had been avoiding occupying his mind with came to the front of his thoughts. He decided to express his worry to his friend while there was still time, the house above its shop looming in the distance as they drew nearer. “Do you think Viktor is going to let me stay here?”

“I feel like that is what he originally intended,” Phichit answered without pause.

“I know, but now that it has actually come to that, what if he changes his mind?”

“He dragged you into this mess. I think it would only be fair if he dealt with the repercussions.” Knowing that wasn’t enough to soothe Yuuri’s nerves, he added with a smile, “But if for some reason he has an issue, or the old man Feltsman does, then you can stay with me. I bet Celestino could even find work for you.”

Yuuri smiled weakly in thanks, although he knew somehow his value to Clarusilva relied on staying by Viktor. It felt strange to think of it that way.

“Thanks again for today, Phichit,” Yuuri said once they climbed the stairs up the building’s side and reached the door. “I really mean it. I don’t know what I would have done if I were here alone.”

Phichit placed a hand on Yuuri’s shoulder and squeezed firmly. “Do you want me to stick around a bit?”

Yuuri took a deep breath, adjusting his glasses and glancing nervously at the doorway. He wondered if Viktor already knew he was back.

“I think I should be okay. You should get home before it’s completely dark.”

They said their good-byes, and Yuuri twisted the knob and entered the house.

Yakov and Yuri were sitting in the living room, and Viktor was leaning against a bookshelf, arms crossed.

They appeared to have been doing nothing in particular, and they all looked up at Yuuri when he walked in. The air had the strange feeling one senses when they walk in on people talking about them.

Yuuri swallowed hard. “Uh, hi,” he said.

No one moved or said anything except Viktor, but his usual cheerful demeanor was lacking. He straightened up slightly, smile weak, and asked, “Nice day?”

“Yeah, it was great. Um.” He twisted his hands. Yakov and Yuri looked like they were waiting for him to do something. For a ridiculous second, Yuuri wondered if any of them could read his mind with their magic, but he quickly brushed away the idea as his typical paranoia. “Viktor, can I talk to you?”

Yuri’s eyes widened and Yakov grunted. Yuuri forced himself not to consider the implications of their forced silence.

Viktor, however, immediately lit up. “Of course!” He looked around them hastily, then started moving toward the hall, gesturing for Yuuri to follow. “We can talk in private back here.”

“Right, okay.” Yuuri tried to ignore the eyes following him as he entered the hall. For some reason he assumed Viktor was taking him into the guest room, but he stopped at the door before the last room on the right.

As soon as they entered, Viktor shut the door and waved a hand; several candles on a chandelier hanging from the ceiling (a tad out of place in a small room, Yuuri thought) grew flames. The room was obviously Viktor’s. Makkachin slept on a bed filled with colorful blankets and pillows messily draped across the surface like a human nest. Papers scrawled with symbols were tacked to the walls. Shelves were filled with objects similar to those in the living room: statues, stones, little talismans, and stacks of books. There were many candles of colorful wax half burnt, frozen drips of wax aesthetically stuck mid-drip down the sides of the pillars. A dresser stood opposite the bed, some of its drawers unsuccessfully shut as clothes spilled out.

Viktor turned around and sat onto the bed, startling Makkachin into wakefulness. “All right,” he said, and waited.

Yuuri felt a tad claustrophobic in such close quarters with Viktor, but he focused on what he wanted to say. Although worry in that respect was also beginning to rise. What if Viktor opposed this? Thought it was weird he wanted to _stay?_ Wasn’t he basically inviting himself to continue to intrude and be in the way? And what did he think he could do for a bunch of wizards in a magical land?

He sighed, trying to remember Phichit’s words: “You’re going to figure it out” and “If he brought you here, he has to deal with you.”

“I want to stay and try to help,” he quickly let the words spill out before he could turn and run. “For a while. If that’s okay.”

There was silence for a moment; Yuuri’s eyes were on the ground, but dread from the lack of response forced him to look up at Viktor to estimate the damage.

To his surprise, Viktor was grinning madly.

And then he lunged forward, wrapping Yuuri in a hug that caught him completely off guard, arms around his entire torso. Yuuri’s face was consequently buried in his shoulder, and he blushed profusely, unsure how to digest this type of response. “I knew you’d decide to stay,” Viktor mumbled near his ear.

“Wh-what? You did?”

Viktor pulled back but kept a hold on Yuuri’s shoulders with both hands, staring at him gleefully. Yuuri hesitantly adjusted his glasses that had been disturbed by the sudden physical contact.

Viktor watched him do so admirably before speaking again.

“Well I hoped,” he explained. “I really think you’re meant to be here with us, Yuuri. Something tells me that.” His hair shifted slightly over half of his face, and with him staring so intently at Yuuri with wide, happy eyes, Yuuri registered the color of his eyes for the first time.

They were strikingly similar to the sea; Yuuri immediately connected the shades they reflected to those of his paint set that he mixed together when painting those waters. How beautiful.

His face felt like fire.

“I – I don’t know if I can really do—“ Yuuri began to stutter, but Viktor pressed a finger to Yuuri’s lips.

“Sh, just figure it out,” he told him, echoing Phichit.

He nodded stiffly.

“Let’s tell everyone the news!” Viktor wrapped an arm around Yuuri and spun him around, dragging him back through the entrance and through the hall.

Yuuri’s heart was beating fast; now that THAT was over (and had gone better – or something – than expected), he wasn’t sure how the other two were to take the news.

Viktor used the arm he had draped around Yuuri to pull him into his side. “He decided to stay!” he announced.

Yakov nodded solemnly, but Yuri groaned. Some papers flew off the table as if a gust of wind had suddenly blown through as Yuri said, “Viktor, he can’t DO anything, it doesn’t matter what your _intuition_ is telling you.”

“Yura, you’re just jealous you won’t be the cutest anymore,” Viktor remarked, and between Yuri and him, Yuuri wasn’t sure whose face reddened more.

Yakov cleared his throat. “We will trust your decision, Vitya. I just hope you explain what’s at stake to Yuuri so he knows the reality of what goes on here.”

“We will have plenty of time to talk things over now,” Viktor said and finally let Yuuri go.

Yuuri adjusted his glasses again, clearing his throat. “Thank you all,” he said with a slight bow.

Yuri grunted and turned away, and Yakov nodded firmly.

“This is perfect timing, too,” Viktor announced. “Tomorrow we are having a meeting with the others.”

“The others?” Yuuri asked. He didn’t know what else to expect; it wasn’t like the entire battle for Clarusilva was being fought by three wizards.

“Oh yeah, some of Yakov’s other apprentices and other people of importance. You’ll meet them all! It’ll be fun.”

Yuuri felt faint at the idea of meeting so many magnificent people when he had nothing to offer, but he took a deep breath and pushed the thought away. That was tomorrow. First he had something else he needed to take care of.

“Viktor,” he said seriously. Viktor’s eyebrows rose.

“Yes?”

“I need to send another letter to my parents. But this time can we not send the egg?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _At least the waves sound the same_ is entirely a Kingdom Hearts reference, yes I am trash but it's such a beautiful line! Thanks again to all who read. I love comments and kudos.  <3


	5. I'll Figure it Out with a Little More Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So I'm taking every chance I got  
> Like the man I know I'm not  
> So sick of wasting all my time  
> How in God's name did I survive?  
> -[Turn Off the Lights](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0kSKtqo6a0s), Panic! at the Disco

When Yuuri woke up the next morning he could tell he had slept late. Sunlight shone through the window from a high angle, and the sounds of voices were loud from outside the building. He appreciated that he'd been left alone, for he had needed to catch up on sleep hours.

He sat up, running a hand through his disheveled hair and feeling the need to bathe with great desire.

Vision blurry, Yuuri noticed something new in the corner of the room: the outline of the object was familiar, and he thought he knew what it was but reached quickly for his glasses before he jumped to a hasty conclusion.

It was an easel! Next to it sat a box.

He threw off his covers and immediately went for the cardboard flaps on the box. His jaw dropped. 

He had been expecting paints and brushes, but as he looked more carefully -- they were _his_ paints and brushes. From Hasetsu. 

He observed the easel closely now, and sure enough, there were the familiar nicks and stains on the wood from years of use. 

His heart beat with joy and he grinned widely. This was so... nice! He wondered how hard it had been for whoever -- well of course it was Viktor -- to magic this stuff over here. It boggled his mind to imagine how that would even work. Surely he had not traveled there and back overnight?

Something bright and white caught Yuuri's eye from next to the box, and he saw a stack of papers and several blank canvases. 

His eyes widened. How had Viktor been so thorough?

For a moment Yuuri was overcome with gratitude; the kindness was surely a mere token of mild appreciation or courtesy for Yuuri's willingness to stay and support Clarusilva, but it tugged on Yuuri's heart strings nevertheless. 

He blinked hard, refocusing. 

The entire day was open to him, and he had planned to start learning everything he could about the history of both halves of the kingdom. But now he just wanted to paint.

He could do both, he decided. But first he bathed, grateful the guest bedroom had its own washroom. The tub was a large, porcelain claw foot one, and to Yuuri it seemed expensive. He tried to use the least amount of water possible. 

Upon drying off, he realized he had no fresh clothes. Yuuri reluctantly pulled on the grimy things he had been wearing and began wondering how one would go about earning money in a place like this so he could buy things to wear. 

Maybe he should take Phichit up on that offer that Celestino could find him a job. 

He'd figure it out. He had a lot of that to do, he noted with a twist of nerves. 

Deep breaths. 

Yuuri left the comfortable confinement of the room and tiptoed down the hall, not wanting to interrupt possible lessons. That was only mostly for fear of Yuri sending knives flying his way. But the place was empty. 

Yuuri stood at the end of the hallway to let his eyes wander over the room once, twice, three times, just to make sure. Then he breathed a relieved sigh. It was still awkward to be in someone else's home, and he cherished the minutes of alone time he got while adjusting. 

He strolled into the kitchen, wondering if there was something small and insignificant he could eat until he knew what he was actually welcome to. There was a bowl of apples sitting out, which was simple enough for breakfast, and he took a green one. 

As Yuuri crunched away at it, he explored the living room. He read the titles of books, not all in languages he understood, and inspected the many trinkets strung about. 

Yuuri was intrigued by the telltale signs of recently used novels: they were those that had been set back on the shelf on their sides rather than slipped into the neat lines of books standing upright. As he read their titles, it was clear what was at the forefront of everyone's minds: _Protective Magic_ ; _Magical Warfare_ ; _Charging Talismans without Healthy Elements_. 

The title of one recently used book caught his eye: _The Ocean Craft_. 

He pulled it off the shelf, binding delicate with worn leather. 

Finishing the apple, Yuuri disposed of the core in the kitchen, keeping the book tucked under his arm. Then he sat on the couch, curling his legs underneath him. The contact with the furniture pressed his dirty clothes into his skin, and he scowled at the feeling but attempted to ignore it by opening the book and delving in. 

The table of contents listed several interesting chapters that caught his eye.

 

 

> I. Introduction: Why Water & Oceanwater Matter
> 
> II. Meditating Near the Ocean
> 
> III. Ocean as a Muse
> 
> IV. Shell Runes

There were more, but Yuuri found his eyes drifting back to the chapter _Ocean as a Muse_. 

He flipped to it decidedly and began to read. 

 

 

> The ocean has been used to inspire for centuries: it has powered the imaginations of artists and pushed upon the intellectual boundaries of science. Where there is known fact of the ocean, where it is mapped and sailed and scouted and fished, its unknown seems even more boundless, more great, and one could argue alarming – for there is reason to suspect we shall never truly have the ocean fit within our minds, much like the cosmos may always be out of our grasp. Yet at least the cosmos are out of literal reach – the ocean, though, is as fresh and tangible as blood.
> 
> The ocean as a muse is ever malleable, then; whereas the sky may speak of freedom and dreams of the conscious mind, the ocean charges the soul with depth, feeling, obscurity. Yet its glittering surface against the light of day may just as well inspire hope and longevity; the crashing of waves can be violent, taking; but also giving, healing. Saltwater restores health, but in its submersion life is taken. Thus the greatness of the sea also rests within its many spectrums, however they are non-linear but spherical, having infinite directions within.
> 
> For these reasons, it is obvious the importance of oceanwater to magic. The great wizard Kubo had claimed in their novel _The Terms of Water,_ “When I drew my magic from the ocean’s musings, set upon me in a night of a seaside stroll, never did I wish to stand by any other being – she was all I needed.”

This was all very beautiful and relatable, albeit strangely put. Yuuri considered his own inspiration drawn from the ocean. 

He pictured himself back in Hasetsu, window facing the shore. He'd open it on days of nice weather to let the breeze come in, carrying with it that salty scent that never really wasn't present, but at least felt more alive blown in straight from the sea rather than being what stuck to his clothes and walls.

He'd listen to the waves, and they'd calm him into a peace of mind where he felt most artistic, most susceptible to let his mind and heart guide his sketches and paints and colors without also being caught in the tangles of nerves and darkened thoughts. 

Yes, the ocean as a muse was indeed good. However many times he had painted it, he couldn't count. It was likely the first thing he painted as a child, and since then he had found a thousand other ways to capture it: waves roiling in a tempest; or surface pale in pearly moon light; or its waters contrasted in an image next to his town that both spoke of the harmony between nature and human while also highlighting the mistrust, with buildings encroaching on sandy shores. 

His mind began to traverse that idea more, but he shook his head, finding those ideas in deeper waters than he was comfortable drifting out to.

But anyway, he had an idea. 

He shut the book and set it on the table, then made his way back to the guestroom. 

Yuuri noticed this time that Viktor's bedroom door was shut, and he wondered momentarily if that meant he was still asleep. But upon realizing ALL the doors were shut (no one likely wanted to leave anything exposed with a stranger in the house), he let the idea fall flat. 

Yuuri spent a while digging through the box of paints Viktor had brought. Even though they were his, for some reason it still felt like unwrapping a gift. He really had to thank Viktor for this.

He gathered paints of choice and set one of the canvases on the easel. There was a window in the room; out of habit, Yuuri almost opened it, but the house wasn’t close to the ocean and he knew he would just here people and machinery. But Yuuri felt the inspiration of everything that had happened these past few days to be enough to put him in an artistic mood. He had a very good idea, at least.

After a preliminary sketch, Yuuri began dabbing colors onto the canvas, and soon he found himself lost in the image he was conjuring. It was a view from beneath the ocean water, only far enough under the surface that the vaguest hint of light filtered through the water from far above. And he painted fish: he drew from his memory of the most beautiful fish he had seen in books and other pictures, noting where his lack of anatomy knowledge would need researched in a book before this would be completely finished. He thought of the perspective at which he painted the fish, like something was lurking in the waters below and watching them all swim above. Yuuri smiled as he added color to one of the fish near the foreground of the image. He had a book back in his room in Hasetsu about fish with paintings and facts of hundreds of species, and he could have used that now. He thought for a moment that he could ask Viktor to bring it, but pushed the idea immediately from his mind. The request would be for something trivial and ridiculous, and Yuuri would be too embarrassed to bother.

“I guess you noticed your gift,” spoke someone from the doorway, and Yuuri nearly splashed paint across the canvas as he jumped and whirled around. Viktor stood in the doorway with his eyes gazing past Yuuri and observing the painting. Yuuri stepped in front of it to attempt blocking his view, feeling exposed and naked and as if Viktor would understand the painting's intended meaning by merely gazing upon the unfinished product.

“Don’t hide it, that’s amazing,” Viktor said, eyes focusing onto Yuuri.

Yuuri shook his head as his face reddened in embarrassment. “No, no, I was just – it’s not good. Oh! Thank you so much for this! You did, um, bring it, right?”

Viktor grinned proudly. “Yes, was up most of the night working on that, but I don’t think I broke anything.”

“How did you…?”

This time Viktor seemed to be the one blushing. He looked to the side and ran a hand through his hair. “Just a bunch of –“ he hesitated, and then he settled on, “Don’t worry about it,” and straightened back up. “It was my pleasure, though. Thought you would feel more at home while you’re here.” His eyes fell to Yuuri’s clothes.

“But I could have done to get you some clothes, I guess.”

Yuuri couldn’t argue with his need for clothes but didn’t know what to suggest.

“Wait!” Viktor exclaimed, clapping his hands together. “I have old clothes that probably fit you!” And he took off down the hall.

Assuming he was to follow him, Yuuri quickly put away his painting supplies. He was about to exit the room when he turned back and turned the easel around, forcing the painting to face away from the doorway.

He nodded, a lot more comfortable with that, and shut the door to the room as he left.

 

* * *

 

 

Viktor dragged several cardboard boxes from a closet in the hallway. He had them open and was pulling out clothes left and right, holding promising pieces up to measure them against Yuuri’s frame as he stood awkwardly before him.

“This one would fit but is definitely ugly, I don’t know why we saved it,” he commented as he tossed a mass of brown cloth to the side.

“So where is everyone?” Yuuri asked while Viktor pressed the shoulder seams of a shirt against his shoulders.

“Downstairs running the shop, probably.” He tossed the shirt into the _acceptable_ pile.

 “Oh, right! I forgot about that! Do you, um,” he hesitated a moment as Viktor tried the waistline of a pair of pants against his hipbones. “Don’t you need to help them?”

He shrugged, and the pants went into the _acceptable_ pile, too. “Sometimes, but it’s not really my job.”

 _Right_ , Yuuri thought as his mind traced back to his conversation with Phichit. Viktor was a big deal. He felt strange all over again; the leader of a war was kneeling in front of him and picking out his wardrobe.

“Wear this one today,” Viktor demanded, shoving a crumpled shirt into Yuuri’s hands.

“O-okay,” Yuuri acquiesced easily and slung the shirt over his shoulder without bothering to look at it. “So what’s the shop do?”

Viktor tossed a belt into the same pile as before. “They sell potions and charms and sometimes go out on paid jobs to help people,” he mumbled quickly. “Oh, these would go well with that shirt!” He handed Yuuri a pair of slacks.

“Um, thanks.” Yuuri wanted to ask more questions about the shop and, well, plenty of other things. But Viktor seemed to be having his own brand of fun.

Nearby, Makkachin nosed at the pile of _unacceptable_ clothes. She sneezed.

“After they close we have some people coming over though,” Viktor continued. “Perfect!” He shoved something that looked like a vest into Yuuri’s arms this time. “And everyone is going to be so interested in you.”

“I can’t really do anything though,” Yuuri reminded him. Dread was filling him at the thought of having any attention on him at all.

“You mean you haven’t figured it out yet?” Viktor looked at him accusingly.

Face hot, Yuuri shook his head. “I just assumed we will find something I can assist with, but I’m not really…” he trailed off, at war with himself. The previous day he had confidently decided he would “figure out” what to do with himself, and he felt feeble to have descended back into doubting his worth again. It was obvious he was soon to cross the border into wasting everyone’s time.

Viktor stood up slowly, and suddenly he was taller than Yuuri again; he had to resist backing away.

Silently, Viktor took the clothes back from Yuuri, shaking each article out one at a time before handing them back until Yuuri had a neat pile resting across extended arms.

Yuuri wondered if Viktor was mad when he finally said, “Just keep thinking about it.” He laid the vest on top of the pile and stepped closer, squashing any remaining comfortable distance left between them. Yuuri clutched the clothes to his chest as if they’d protect him. When Viktor spoke again, his voice was low, hushed: “I am positive I was meant to bring you here.”

And before Yuuri could respond to the odd sentiment, a grin broke across Viktor’s face, and he took Yuuri by the shoulders and twisted him around to give him a light push toward the hall. “Now go change! Your clothes smell like fish.”

Yuuri yelped in mortification and practically sprinted to the guestroom.

 

* * *

 

 

Yuuri avoided the mirror as he dressed in his new clothes; he hadn’t worn anything so constricting in a long time – it wasn’t that the clothes didn’t fit, but rather they fit him perfectly. He usually wore loose-fitting, casual clothes.

He hoped that the things Viktor had picked out for him included at least some more comfortable garments; he would not be able to dress nice all the time and stay sane.

After a final tug on the vest to make sure it hadn’t twisted around his torso with all his fidgeting, he left the room. Viktor had already cleaned up everything and put the rejected clothes back into the closet. All that remained on the floor was a box of everything that had passed his inspection.

Viktor looked up when Yuuri entered the room, and he observed him slowly, eyes panning up and down several times. Yuuri thought he might melt under the heat of embarrassment over his appearance being evaluated.

Eventually Viktor raised his eyebrows and nodded. “Yes, I was right.”

Self-consciously tugging at the vest and adjusting his glasses, Yuuri asked, “Right about what?”

Grinning but not answering, Viktor shoved the box toward the hallway to slide it into the guest room. “Feel free to stuff all these in the closet when you get a chance later.”

Yuuri nodded despite Viktor no longer watching him. “Thanks again,” he said and tried to sound like he meant it, because he did.

When Viktor re-entered, he headed for the kitchen. He shuffled through cabinets and drawers, pulling out food and utensils. When he noticed Yuuri watching him quizzically (and awkwardly – he didn’t know what to do with himself), he explained, “I’m under the impression our guests will want food when they come,” he said. “Not much of a cook though,” he added lowly, probably not intending to be heard.

Eager to do anything, Yuuri jumped at the opportunity. “I can help with that,” he offered quickly. “That is… if you would like help.”

Viktor smiled and Yuuri tried to ignore the amusement the smile seemed to be filled with. “By all means. Oh, but we don’t have any fish, so maybe you can’t…”

For a second, Yuuri was confused. Then he rolled his eyes, getting the joke. “I don’t _only_ know about fish.”

“You can paint them pretty well.”

Ignoring that with maybe only the faintest flush, Yuuri set to work with what was available in the kitchen. He tried to focus, remembering what would be deemed appropriate as a snack (meal?) for guests at a gathering (meeting? Something like that?). He decided to prepare a platter of sorts.

Only when he realized that Viktor was standing to the side, merely watching him while leaning against the counter, did he feel nervous about what he was doing. “Um,” he started, all too aware of the silence suddenly. “So who is coming tonight?”

On cue, someone knocked.

Viktor went to answer that door and Yuuri tried to work faster, turning on the stove in attempt to cook some of the available meats.

He heard voices, and one caught his attention – Phichit?

“You’re unusually early,” Viktor said.

“Phichit said I should come early to meet the new guy or something like that,” answered a voice that Yuuri didn’t recognize.

“Yuuri?” the hopefully-Phichit voice called.

Phichit stepped into the room. Yes!

“I didn’t know you were going to be here tonight!” Yuuri exclaimed, relief flooding fast as he realized he would have someone he was comfortable with present.

Phichit practically ran into the kitchen to greet Yuuri. “Of course! I deliver the news to them special, remember?” He had a bundle of paper clutched to his arms.

“Right, of course,” Yuuri answered, rolling a piece of meat in seasoning he had found.

Phichit eyed the spread of food Yuuri had across the kitchen counters; “Looks like you’ve found ways to keep yourself busy.”

“Sort of, I guess.”

Phichit flashed him a warm smile. “It’ll keep getting better.”

“Sooo,” the voice that Yuuri hadn’t recognized cut through the air. A young man was standing in the room; he was blonde and wore glasses. Clean-cut, he stood straight with a confidence that rivaled Viktor’s own. “Who was this again?”

“This is Yuuri,” Viktor answered. “Yuuri, this is Chris.”

“Hello,” Yuuri greeted hesitantly.

Chris walked into the kitchen space to see Yuuri properly. Like Viktor, he examined his entire profile, eyes roaming up and down his body. His gaze was more penetrating than Viktor’s, and he smiled deviously as he observed Yuuri.

Finally, he said, “You’re way more nervous than you need to be.”

Yuuri nearly dropped the spatula he was holding, the accusation not entirely false but discomforting all the same.

“Uhh,” Yuuri started, but Phichit came to his rescue.

“You’ll have to get used to that with Chris,” he explained. “He’s really good at interpersonal magic.”

Chris canted his hips and shook his head. “But really, your aura is such a muted yellow, Yuuri. Those nerves can’t be healthy. Anyhow, it’s nice to meet you.”

Unsure how to appropriately respond to this, Yuuri figured ignoring the first part of what Chris had said was best. He cleared his throat. “You too,” he said, and failed to not sound strained.

Chris narrowed his eyes and observed him further. “That’s… odd. Viktor?” He looked toward Viktor as if waiting for an explanation for something unspoken.

“I know,” Viktor said. “But you can see his aura?”

“I could, but it’s gone. Wait…” his eyes flashed up to meet Yuuri’s. “How are you doing that?”

Eyes wide, Yuuri only shook his head. He didn’t even know what an aura was beyond the figurative meaning of the word.

“Uhh, do you need help with anything, Yuuri?” Phichit asked, stepping between Chris and him.

Grateful yet again for his friend, Yuuri gave Phichit the menial task of chopping vegetables. His friend rambled idly, presumably trying to distract him from worrying about the pending evening. Yuuri didn’t tune in immediately; he watched as Chris rejoined Viktor to mumble something to him. Whatever it was had Viktor flushed pink and shaking his head vehemently.

Yuuri sighed, glad to be an embarrassment. 

 

* * *

 

 

A small number of people showed up, but it was enough that there were too many to fit around the kitchen table. Yuuri’s prepared food was set onto the table in the living room, and kitchen chairs were dragged in to join the couches.

Yuuri tried desperately to remember the names of everyone in the room. There was Yakov and Yuri, of course. Chris who he had already met; but then there was Mila, Jean-Jacques (just call him JJ, he’d been told), Sara, and Michele. Last names had been given, but Yuuri could not keep track of those, although he remembered that Sara and Michele were siblings. He was told their usual group consisted of more people but not everyone could make it tonight. Everyone greeted him warmly initially. But the confusion that had crossed Chris’s expression was mirrored on each person for a moment. Yuuri didn’t understand, but he tried to not feel too out-of-place, except every time he remembered where he was and what these people were capable of – magic, yikes! – his chest seemed to be carrying a thousand tons of pressure.

Sara and Mila plopped down onto one of the couches together and fell into chatting like old friends. Michele wormed in awkwardly next to Sara. JJ took one of the kitchen chairs.

Yakov sat on another sofa alone, and Yuri leaned against a bookshelf with arms crossed, brooding heavily.

Yuuri sat down on the remaining couch and had smiled hopefully as Phichit began to walk toward him, but suddenly Viktor was sitting next to him; Phichit raised his eyebrows in surprise, but soon resorted to wriggling them suggestively at his friend before taking a seat in a chair next to Chris.  

Well, sitting next to Viktor wasn’t that bad. He was the person who brought him here, after all, and thus could defend his being there if anyone questioned why someone so useless was leeching the information from their meeting. 

Makkachin paced around excitedly, greeting every single newcomer before settling by Viktor's feat.

“They’re making headway on the planes,” Phichit said, cutting into Mila and Sara’s conversation. Everyone was quiet a moment.

Yakov sighed.

“Not good,” Chris commented.

“I guess this means they’re thinking about hitting us directly?” Sara asked.

Phichit nodded. “I definitely think that is what that means.”

Mila, eyes narrowed, asked, “Remind me again who you get this information from?”

“Guang and Seung-Gil. They live in Clarufretus as spies.”

“Oh, right.”

Yuuri’s eyes widened. Phichit was pretty hardcore. Still, the meaning of the words were a tad lost on Yuuri.

Yakov started saying something about fighter planes, and Viktor leaned over toward Yuuri. “Fretus doesn’t usually attack us directly, since all they need to do is harm the forest and seas to hurt us.”

Yuuri nodded, grateful for the guidance.

The conversation carried on. Everyone nibbled at Yuuri’s food. Mila, at one point, teased Viktor about the sudden improvement in the quality of both his cooking and serving aesthetic skills, to which Viktor loudly proclaimed Yuuri the rightful deserver of such praise. Yuuri had sunk into the couch as ten seconds of positive commentary on the food passed between everyone.

He tried to keep up with everything going on and found that it wasn’t too hard, even if some things lacked context.

From the way everyone spoke, Yuuri began to realize that magic-user or not, everyone had a purpose.

Based on what occurred earlier, Chris was good at reading and manipulating people with psychological magic. He often spoke in terms of people’s auras and the trails of energy they left wherever they went.

Mila, a peppy redhead, seemed to lean toward manipulating people in the more physical sense. Yuuri only gathered this from the one time she mentioned controlling someone’s limbs after they attempted to attack her.

Sara didn’t say enough for Yuuri to gather what she was good at, but her brother mentioned the words “force field” often enough that it was assumable he preferred defensive magic. JJ wasn’t hard to figure out; whenever he had the opportunity to speak, he boisterously reminded everyone of his talents with telekinesis. Yuuri wasn’t sure what was so special about that, for as far as he could tell that was fairly basic magic, but he didn’t dare ask.

Phichit had his journalism, photographs, and news reports, of course.

Yuuri wondered about Yuri and his uncontrollable amounts of magic flowing out of him. Perhaps, with Yuri’s young age, he was still finding himself.

What was Viktor good at, then? Yuuri thought about what he had seen from him, but it all really amounted to memory erasure (and attempted memory erasure) and halting Yuri’s chaotic magic before it did too much harm. He could ask, he thought, but decided it would be fun to figure it out instead. Perhaps it would give him something to do. He sighed, remembering his own plainness.

Oh wait, he could… resist magic. Not of his own will. That was something everyone was at least interested in. When Viktor had announced that to the group, Yuuri had to decline multiple offerings of attempted uses of magic on him just to “test” his abilities.

Eventually, the dishes were carried to the kitchen. Their space was replaced with a map. It was faded and tattered. It depicted an illustrated aerial view of part of a forest and part of a civilized area.

“Yuuri, this is the beginning of Fretus,” Viktor explained.

Yuuri nodded, leaning forward to get a better look at the map.

“Sorry about the quality,” Phichit said. “The cartography place is located in Fretus, so we sort of have a map shortage right now.”

Viktor snapped into action at the placement of the map on the table; it was a side of him that Yuuri had not seen yet. He spoke potential battle plans, announcing them to his group eloquently and with purpose. Yuuri watched with wide eyes: Viktor’s expression was stern, and it paralleled artfully with how striking he was in appearance. He was so involved in his words that he didn’t seem to notice Yuuri surveying, so he took full advantage, taking in the ways he gestured between tapping at various places on the map.

Definitely not for the first time, Yuuri wondered exactly why Viktor thought he was meant to be sitting here with a group of extraordinary people.

Viktor leaned forward, and Yuuri watched as the muscles in his back tensed inside the fabric of his shirt as he exclaimed something angrily about… well, Yuuri ought to be listening, shouldn’t he?

He finally dragged his eyes from Viktor only to catch Chris’s eye. He was staring at him like he had been staring at him a long while, and Yuuri quickly looked down at the map on the table, face heated as he tried to clear his mind to diminish whatever “aura” or “energy” he was giving off. If Chris was even able to read him at that moment. He wasn’t sure.

He decided to do his damnedest to tune into the conversation.

“So to summarize that, we don’t want to attempt a direct ambush,” Viktor was saying.

“Correct,” Yakov answered. “We need to pull them away somewhere before striking.”

“Viktor, you’re good at deception,” Chris supplied, eyes having finally pulled themselves from observing Yuuri. Yuuri was tucking the notion of “good at deception” away for future analysis. “Couldn’t you create illusions of us to chase groups of the enemy into the forest?”

“I think they’re too smart for that now, unfortunately,” Phichit said. “They’ve been spreading information on how to recognize spells and magical deception.”

Sara nodded. “As soon as they noticed they were being led into the forest, they would know something was up.”

Viktor hummed a thoughtful sound, and everyone was quiet for a bit, deep in thought.

Yuuri took a deep breath. “Does it have to be the forest?” he asked quietly, the question more directed at Viktor.

“We are stronger there,” was all Viktor answered.

Something about this situation reminded Yuuri of a phenomenon of fishing in Hasetsu.

For a few days a year during the summer, a certain species of dolphins migrated offshore. Dolphins were smart animals and provided an amazing experience for the fishermen, and even in these weak years, the dolphin migrations still brought hordes of business to the Katsuki family.

The dolphins would chase hordes of fish toward the shore where fishermen waded in shallow water with nets. And the fish, being more afraid of the predator _in the water with them_ than the one that could only drift out so far, fled to the shallows where the dolphins could not reach. However, of course, nets were waiting. And the catches never failed to be plentiful, and the fishermen would toss fish back directly into the mouths of the dolphins that had assisted them. It was an amazing example of a symbiotic relationship between species.

But now Yuuri was thinking in terms of fish and the sea in relation to war, and he wasn’t sure where he was going with this, but something was bubbling in his chest, forcing itself out: “You need to draw them in with something that isn’t magic.”

Yuri scoffed.

JJ said, “Unfortunately all anyone can use is magic, so…”

“No,” Yuuri said, shaking his head and thinking of the term _deception_ he had heard Chris use earlier. “You have to disguise magic as something organic. Something that could be expected, like… like…” His mind raced as he tried to think of the right thing, increasingly aware of the eyes boring into him expectantly. _Oh god¸_ he thought. This was going to fall flat. Yuuri could already feel all the threads of the idea he had begun to weave unravelling before him. He was losing his grip, his train of thought was crashing; to help none at all, he noticed Chris fidget uncomfortably in his peripheral vision, an intimate witness to Yuuri’s beginnings of a breakdown.

Why was he here? Nothing made sense. If he just hadn’t woken up that one night to see Viktor standing there in the storm – his eyes widened. _That was it!_

“A storm!” he gasped. He looked around expectantly, but everyone seemed confused, if not slightly taken aback.

“Can you make a storm?” he asked no one in particular, eyes flashing to the map. He saw the area labeled Clarufretus between the ocean and the forest.

“Here,” he pointed at a corner of blue on the map. He drug his finger along it, tracing a path onto the shore and into the green of the trees. “If you could mimic a tropical storm coming off the ocean, even if they’re afraid of the forest, if this is far enough from any buildings, they’ll want to take cover – and storms are too natural for them to assume immediately magic is the cause. Especially if the day is overcast.”

When no one responded immediately, Yuuri chanced a glance at Viktor.

Viktor’s eyes were wide with surprise, but the smirk across his expression seemed almost proud, as if he had expected this. Yuuri’s heart fluttered, but he still needed someone to respond.

Chris cleared his throat. “Looks like maybe we have ourselves a tactician.”

Yuuri blushed and sunk back in on himself, and discussion picked back up with what Yuuri had said, everyone agreeing on the advantages of this new strategy.

“But who would be best at making the storm?”

A few eyes glanced toward Viktor, but someone else exclaimed.

It was Yuri, and he yelled, “Me! Oh god let me do that please, I could be really good at that.”

Everyone exchanged wary glances except Viktor and Yakov, who nodded vehemently.

“It’ll be dangerous,” Yakov declared, “but I do believe Yura can handle this. He has enough energy for it, at least.”

Yuuri grinned, knowing enough to agree with that statement.

“Yes!” Yuri shouted in triumph, and some books were knocked off the shelf.

“Not alone, though,” Yakov added quickly.

Yuuri was still basking in the glow of peer acceptance when he heard his name again. “Yuuri should go with him.”

It was the Chris guy who had spoken.

“Wait, me?”

“No,” Viktor was already saying.

Phichit spoke up, voice laden with concern for his friend: “That would be a little dangerous for Yuuri, right?”

Viktor was about to speak again, but Yuri exclaimed, “I mean he wouldn’t get hurt with me there.”

“Absolutely not,” Viktor argued. “He could very easily get hurt.”

Chris said, “Viktor, you know a lot of their weapons are laced in magic from Vavara. So according to what you have told us, those couldn’t harm him. And with Yuri there, he would be fine.”

“I want to,” Yuuri said before he could chicken out of the idea. He appreciated that someone, Chris, believed he would be useful.  “I can help guide Yuri along, maybe.” He hoped the suggestion had grounding if everyone was taking his potential role as tactician seriously.

“You still might get in my way,” Yuri told him, and Yuuri realized that he was only accepting to let Yuuri tag along as a challenge that he could indeed keep him from dying. That was good enough, though.

He promised, “I won’t.”

Viktor rubbed his forehead with his fingers. Yuuri wondered why he seemed so troubled by this proposition. Was he actually worried? That would contradict the fact that he had wanted Yuuri to help them so badly, right?

Momentarily, Yuuri wondered back to that. He still did not entirely understand the situation leading to Viktor thinking it was so necessary he come here. If he had something specific in mind for Yuuri, then he needed to speak up.

Finally, Viktor said, “Fine, as long as Yura doesn’t think it will be too much for him to handle. I’m sure plenty of us will still be stationed nearby.”

Yuuri thought of something else. He did not want to be the one to bring it up, but it seemed too important to ignore. Hesitantly, he said, “Yuri, will you need to learn to control water better for this?”

Everyone went silent. Yuri stared in shock as the words sunk in, and he bristled, mouth parted to yell and Yuuri was already wincing when Yakov answered, “Most definitely. You have a lot of work to do, Yura.”

Yuri’s mouth clamped shut and he spoke through gritted teeth, “Right.”

“You’ll manage it, I’m sure!” Yuuri tried to help. Yuri ignored him.

“Well, this was successful,” Mila spoke up.

Everyone muttered in agreement and they spoke a few minutes longer on other plans and arranged future meetings with one another. Yuuri drifted in and out of listening to the conversation, drained by his contribution, but a sensation of acceptance had settled over him. It was pleasant, a contrast to his usual feelings of being in the way.

“That was amazing,” Viktor said next to him as the others began to speak of more casual things, and Yuuri glanced at him from the side, unable to stop the smile forming on his face at the praise. Maybe – just maybe, this was going to work out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The phenomenon Yuuri mentions with the fishermen and dolphins is a [real thing](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lRwWfYLKFw0)!


	6. The Best Story That I Could Ever Tell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I've gotten drunk and shot the breeze with kings of far off lands  
> They showed me wealth as far as I could see  
> But their kingdoms seemed all shriely and they cried with jealousy  
> When I leaned in and told them about you  
> –[Anything For You](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YvHeYawq0N8), Ludo

Two weeks passed, and they did so with such activity that was new to Yuuri’s life that he would have told someone it had been months. When Yuuri wasn’t helping finalize tactical plans for the battle plan artfully named “Yura’s Fury,” he had continued the menial task of cleaning the rooms and whatever Yuri broke or knocked over in fits of magic. Upon noticing his silent diligence, Yakov had kindly put him to work in the shop downstairs. Yuuri arranged vials of potions and talismans and books; at the end of the first week, he was familiar enough with the locations of everything to assist customers in basic searches of whatever they were looking for. It allowed him to man the store while Yakov and Yuri went out on brief errands.

Unfortunately he had been correct in predicting that he would immediately doubt his decision to stay. Guilt and insecurity weighed on his chest the first few days; every mistake he made, every stutter, every time he needed something explained nearly sent him begging to be taken back to Hasetsu where he could hide his face forever. And he may have given into the panic if not for the fact that making Viktor take him back would have been more humiliating than all else. But as Yuuri carved out a niche for himself, and the more he realized no one was ever fazed by his blunders, the pressure threatening to seize his chest began to lift.

Working in the shop helped. If there was nothing else he could do, there was always something to be organized or stocked. Phichit dropped by often to keep him company; Viktor loitered around the store, too, which Yuuri would have found normal except Yuri had questioned Viktor – with an accusatory tone and while sending several glares Yuuri’s way – on why he was spending so much time there.

But Yuuri enjoyed the company and it gave him an opportunity to ask Viktor about Clarusilva without eavesdroppers or probing eyes.

An interesting conversation that stuck with him had been about _death_ magic:

“This is sort of a heavy question, but I’m just curious… are there any spells that can kill?”

Viktor was unmoved; this was probably something a lot of non-magic users asked about. “Not really. It’s possible, but it can only be achieved by someone who has nothing they love in this world. Literally nothing. I’ve never known someone to kill with magic alone.”

Yuuri’s chest tightened at the idea that it was still possible. “But can Vavara…?”

“No,” Viktor answered with ease. “Apparently even she has something to love.”

Working in Yakov’s store meant that Yuuri was getting paid a little, and he used his money to buy Phichit coffee and treats to begin to make up for everything bought for him on their first day out. For himself he bought undergarments since Viktor did not have any of those saved to lend him (not that he would have wanted to use old underwear).

Yuuri also visited a bookstore. Phichit had taken him to it, remembering how much Yuuri enjoyed reading; most books being sold were on magical topics unfamiliar to him, but he took advantage of the opportunity to learn and bought something that, upon flipping through the pages, seemed vaguely understandable at his knowledge level. He also found a sketchbook on sale, which he bought without hesitance.

Yuuri continued to work on his painting but found he truly could not complete some of the details of the fish without a reference. Thus it was set aside as a work-in-progress.

Yuri was making solid headway in his ability to harness water now that he had a goal to work toward. Yuuri noticed he was a _tad_ less reckless with destroying the house while training under his new motivation. Just a tad.

After finally settling Yuuri in, Viktor spent most of each day out. And when he would come home, he seemed tired and drained, but Yuuri noticed he tried to lighten up and smile at his presence.

“You don’t have to do that,” Yuuri commented one day when Viktor had smiled through his bleariness to greet Yuuri reading through the book he bought on the couch.

“Do what?” He went to the kitchen to mill around for food.

Yuuri closed the book to follow him. “I know that you probably have a rough day each day. You don’t have to force yourself to seem happy when you come here. It’s just me.” He gestured around the empty space to emphasize that it was, indeed, _just_ _him_.

Viktor straightened up suddenly to stare at him with an affronted expression. “… You think I’m pretending?”

Yuuri backtracked a little, fearing he had overstepped a boundary. He adjusted his glasses and brushed hair from his forehead. “Well, I assume you have to a little.”

Viktor scoffed. “I am always happy to see you. I brought you here, remember?” he glanced around the kitchen. “However the sheer lack of food around here may be a less happy sight to come home to.”

And that was how Yuuri began cooking dinner for everyone. After checking with Yakov, the man had agreed without question like he had expected this eventually. He even gave Yuuri money to restock the pantries. Yuuri attempted to buy ingredients for meals he could make that he was familiar with, meaning that he made lots of authentic Hasetsu food, starting with his favorite: _katsudon_. He was nervous to serve the first meal he made, but it went well. As well as he could have expected, at least.

Yakov had nodded sternly after the first bite, having come home from a long day of out-of-shop errands. Yuri demanded to know what he was eating, refused to comment on the meal, but ate the entirety of his serving.

Viktor didn’t make it home that day until everyone had been halfway through their meals. Yuuri rose awkwardly from the table and stumbled into the kitchen to make Viktor’s plate from the food he had kept heated. Viktor had watched with wide eyes filled with an emotion deep but unreadable.

And so two weeks in, Yuuri was feeling excessively comfortable in his temporary home. The pending battle and the risks it presented hovered at the back of his mind, but Yuuri’s naivety and inexperience with such a thing helped him let it remain a mere thought, and thus he didn’t let himself worry.

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

> And someone may find they have resistance to magic; they may be able to resist interpersonal magic, charm magic, cognitive magic, and more, and may experience varying levels of resistance to multiple types. The cause of this resistance is considered to be connected to the time and place of someone’s birth, but more research remains to be done to support this claim.
> 
> Those resistant to magic may feel they do not have control of their apparent ability, but in fact, they do. With proper meditation and understanding of one’s emotional strength, a person resisting magic may find they can control their resistance at the bend of their will. This is an extraordinary ability to retain when wanting to feign weakness. Sometimes resistant persons may find they can flip their repellant nature and absorb magic, although there are not many written accounts of this being done on a large scale.

Yuuri stared at this passage within the book he had bought. He read it again.

It sounded like him, except his book read as if some people were only partially resistant to magic. Yuuri appeared to be resistant to everything. He stared at the second paragraph that claimed he could control whether or not he was resistant.

If that were true – but, when would he want to become un-resistant?

The front door opened and shut. Yuuri looked up, expecting Yakov or Yuri since it was hardly the afternoon. He was surprised to see Viktor instead.

“Oh, hi!” Yuuri greeted him, scrambling to sit in a neater position. He shut his book and slid it onto the coffee table.

Viktor smirked when he saw that he had been curled up with a book, and his words echoed faintly in Yuuri’s mind: _I’m always happy to see you._

“Hello,” he greeted. Makkachin bounded from her space on the couch next to Yuuri to greet Viktor, and Viktor murmured sweet, low greetings to his dog before meandering to the couch Yuuri was at. He plopped down on the adjacent cushion and leaned back, stretching as he did so. Makkachin hopped up to rest between them.

“Off early today?”

“Indeed,” Viktor mused.

“Viktor,” Yuuri started, always hesitant to ask questions.

“Hm?”

“What do you do every day?”

Viktor tilted his head thoughtfully to the side as he kicked off his shows and tucked his feet underneath him. “I guess a lot of different things. Some days I am scouting the forest for traces of damage from Clarufretus. Often I assist in preparing charms to protect the forest. It’s been rough lately. Vavara always finds new ways to break through our charms, but we have a really sturdy one put up that seems to be lasting a bit.”

Yuuri listened attentively, always impressed at anything pertaining to magic.

“I guess I also check in on other soldiers who help us. Keep them updated.”

“No wonder you’re always so tired when you get back.”

Viktor shrugged and smiled weakly. “It’s what I do. Have done, for a long time.”

“Everyone must be so grateful.” The words came out before Yuuri really thought about them. They were true, but they still pulled Viktor’s eyebrows down in a confused furrow.

“I… suppose.”

Yuuri let his gaze fall to his knees, hands twisting around each other. “I know I am, at least. One of the reasons I stayed was because I couldn’t imagine making you take me home when you had to come back here and fight for something that’s a part of my life as much as it is yours.”

Silence stretched between them. It almost grew unnerving, but Viktor spoke, “I wouldn’t have thought of it that way. You didn’t have to stay for… for me, or anything.”

“No!” Yuuri said a little too abruptly. He rubbed his hands together and tried to find the right words to make sense of his thoughts. “I just mean that it means so much to me that there are people who care so much to fight. And I wanted to be a part of it because I needed to be. That’s all.”

Viktor relaxed. He moved to take a hold of one of Yuuri’s anxiously moving hands. Yuuri’s heart thudded against his ribcage with uncomfortable force.

“You are so nervous all the time.” Yuuri stared, unsure of how to respond to the truth. It wasn’t something he had assumed he hid well, but no one usually pointed it out.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled finally and looked away. Viktor squeezed his hand gently. Yuuri swallowed hard, face and neck hot enough that he feared he would actually begin to sweat. If Viktor thought gentle hand squeezes would be calming, he was terribly mistaken.

“Would you like to go somewhere with me today?”

The unexpected question caught Yuuri off-guard, but the offer was appealing. To get out of the house and shop to do something outside that wasn’t follow Phichit aimlessly around the city – indeed! “To where?” he asked. And then considered something else. “Would we be alone?”

Yuuri was not sure what he wanted the answer to the latter question to be. He preferred smaller company, but the idea of spending the rest of the day alone with Viktor was… something fluttered in his stomach. He wasn’t sure what to name the feeling, so he didn’t think further into it.

“Would that be okay?” Viktor watched him carefully, a smile playing at his lips that hinted amusement.

Yuuri didn’t answer immediately, and Viktor continued, “I was planning on going into Claru Forest anyway. To relax and focus. It’s extremely good for the mind in there, as you have been told.” He cocked an eyebrow. “I think it would be good for you, but don’t feel obligated.”

It was tempting both to stay and go. But Yuuri had been having a good streak of days. And if Viktor was indirectly offering a chance to get to know one another better – he blushed, refusing to finish the thought of someone so important wanting to be closer with him. Viktor had simply recognized Yuuri needed to get out and was helping him; that was what he did for everyone in Clarusilva. Helped them.

He took a shuddery intake of breath and gave his answer: “Yes. Thank you. That does sound nice.”

Viktor’s eyes lit up and he grinned in such a way that Yuuri couldn’t help but smile. Boldly, he added, “I will even bring the sketchbook I brought.”

“Lovely,” Viktor commented, drawing out the word with an emphasis that made Yuuri’s stomach flutter again. He let go of Yuuri’s hand, and Yuuri instantly resumed twisting them around one another, but this time for nerves of anticipation rather than insecurity.

 

* * *

 

 

The forest was beautiful.

Which was an understatement. In fact, Yuuri felt so overwhelmed the moment he and Viktor crossed the first tree into its domain that he had staggered a moment. Having spent his entire life by the ocean, the forests bordering the far reaches beyond Hasetsu had never called to him. 

Therefore Yuuri failed to predict how unfamiliar the dense, aromatic, shaded place would be to him. Trees were _tall,_ casting the tall buildings of Clarusilva to shame. It was immediately quieter within, thick trunks and bursting foliage muffling other sounds and enclosing them inside a bubble of… peace. It was peaceful.

They walked deeper inside, mostly without speaking, and Yuuri gazed around in wonder. He winced as his own steps crashed against leaves and sticks, whereas Viktor managed somehow to sidestep obstacles. The air was heavy with a thick, musty scent, an intriguing combination of rotting leaves and wet wood and lighter, flowery aromas.

They walked for a good thirty minutes before Viktor stopped. A distant, watery babbling told Yuuri they were near a stream. “I like this area,” Viktor commented, tossing down a bag he had brought; it carried Yuuri’s sketchbook. He sat on the ground and leaned back against a tree. Yuuri felt awkward to keep standing, so he sat too, crossing his legs on the forest floor.

“So… do you just sit here and meditate?”

Viktor closed his eyes. “I start with that,” he said, and his voice was low and relaxed. Yuuri watched as his breathing slowed and decided it best he didn’t try to carry conversation.

He listened to the stream in an attempt to do what Viktor had brought him for and relax. He hadn’t really meditated in the past and still wasn’t sure of how it assisted anyone in their magic. But as he tried to close his eyes and empty his mind like he knew was correct to do, he found himself antsy and too aware of Viktor sitting across from him.

Yuuri opened his eyes to peer at Viktor. He was still, breathing gently; if Yuuri didn’t know better, he would have thought he’d fallen asleep. The composure and peace across his expression highlighted a vulnerability in Viktor that Yuuri had not witnessed before. Warmth bloomed in Yuuri’s chest as he imagined that Viktor was somewhere in his mind, happy and at peace.

His gaze smoothly wandered down Viktor's neck, grazing across collarbones and skin that disappeared into his shirt. Shoulders rose gently every few seconds and stayed lifted before falling slowly. Unconsciously, Yuuri paced his breathing to Viktor’s, the slow, deep breaths filling him with the sweet forest air. In the security of the trees, with Viktor’s eyes shut and somewhere far away, Yuuri began feeling comfortable enough to let his mind drift.

Watching Viktor was a reminder of how beautiful he was. It was fitting that the kingdom’s hero be so beautiful. Viktor’s charisma alone was enough to knock the wind out of someone; pairing that with a steady gaze, handsome face, and confident stance was too much.

Did Viktor have romance in his life? Yuuri couldn’t help but wonder; he hadn’t seen Viktor interact with people outside of those involved in the war, but that didn’t mean much. The thought stirred something within him – he wanted to know more about Viktor, and the realization he didn’t know something as basic as who was important in his life bothered him.

If he wasn’t with someone, then surely there were plenty pining after him. He was like the knights in fairy tales. Or, no -- it was more like Viktor was the prince. 

Far above, a breeze swept through the canopies, the rustling sound of leaves shaking escaping to the forest floor, audible over the sound of the stream.

As Yuuri admired Viktor, he found he couldn’t pace their breathing together again, his heart beginning to beat too fast for his attempts at slow breaths to not be shaky.

What else did Viktor do when he came out here? Any magic? Excitement stirred within Yuuri at the idea of getting to witness some sort of grand act. He tried to totally not be obviously enamored with what Yakov, Yuri, and Viktor did around the house, but it was always to look away. 

And another thought: if this was a place where Viktor went for introspection, did he usually do it alone? The notion that Viktor was sharing an intimate space with Yuuri carried blood to his face. He was probably overreacting – Viktor just wanted to help Yuuri relax, and surely he brought others out here all the time. The thought didn’t sit well in him, and it irritated Yuuri. He was being ridiculous, and he decided he wouldn’t let himself ask Viktor questions like _are you seeing someone?_ And _do you usually bring someone else out here with you?_

Because what would that look like, anyway?

“I wasn’t going to say anything, but I know you’re staring and it’s distracting.”

Yuuri startled so much that he nearly left the ground. If he thought he had been experiencing blush before, nothing could prepare him for the hellfires that swam up his chest and engulfed him in that moment. “I – I –“ he stumbled over words. Viktor’s eyes remained shut, but his lips twitched with the hints of a smirk.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize –“ _that you would know I was admiring how beautiful you were and hoping that me being here is a special occasion for you._ “I’m going to take a walk around.”

He scrambled back to his feet, pointedly avoiding looking at Viktor, but heard him say, “Don’t go too far,” with a slightly teasing tone.

 

* * *

 

 

Yuuri decided to walk to the stream, and then to walk along it to ensure he wouldn’t get lost. As soon as he had taken several steps from Viktor, he’d become very aware of how alike everything in the forest looked. 

The distraction of staring at the water tumbling over smooth stones in the streambed was good for him, and he was able to gradually shake away the heat of his earlier humiliation.

Yuuri walked for several minutes in quiet contemplation.When he looked up again, he noticed a beautiful tree at the other side of the water. It was far back from the stream bed, and he had to gaze between several trunks to see it well, but the tree stood out because its trunk’s diameter was huge. It was larger than any of the other trees he had seen that day. Yuuri didn’t know anything of tree species, but the tree’s bark was made up of thick slabs that stuck to the trunk like plates of armor. Yuuri was too far from the tree to see how far it stretched into the canopies, for the trees closer blocked his view, but what was more eye-catching was at the base of the tree. A small field of purple flowers grew around the trunk’s base, some sprouting between the gnarled roots that protruded from the earth and others extending a few meters beyond. Their blooms were full and open; Yuuri hadn’t known many flowers to thrive with such a lack of sunlight. Looking around, he didn’t notice them anywhere else. It was odd, but beautiful. The sight held Yuuri’s gaze for a long moment, and then inspiration struck.

Yuuri hurried back to where Viktor was. He was still sitting with his eyes closed, so Yuuri carefully and quietly (and while making sure to not look at Viktor) dug through his bag for his sketchbook and pencils. He set to work.

 

* * *

 

 

“That’s pretty,” Viktor commented.

Deep in artistic concentration, Yuuri had heard Viktor stir but hadn’t registered it as him coming back to life. He instinctively tucked the illustration into his chest and quickly drew back. “I, um…” Viktor had silently crept up next to him. Not sure how long he had been there, Yuuri’s stomach flipped at the idea of him watching him draw.

Hesitantly, he brought the sketchbook back down. “Thanks,” he said. “It’s that really big tree with the purple flowers upstream.”

Viktor tilted his head thoughtfully, examining the drawing. This close, Yuuri could smell whatever shampoo he used. He swallowed, willing himself not to lean in and breathe deeper lest he make it obvious he was smelling him. Yuuri almost missed Viktor saying, “I don’t think I have seen it before. But it looks like I should have.”

Embarrassed, Yuuri pulled his sketchbook away again. “I’m not doing it justice.”

Viktor readjusted his position to sit cross-legged across from Yuuri. “Do you like it out here?” he asked.

Yuuri nodded. “It’s beautiful.” Without thinking, he added, “It’s the kind of place that it’d be nice to visit every day.”

Viktor’s expression brightened. “Let’s do that!”

“Wh-what?”

He shrugged, still smiling. “I mean I am out here a lot, but usually closer to Clarufretus to place charms on the forest at that end. I would love to just spend time alone here more, though. Will you join me?”

Yuuri didn’t understand how wanting to “spend time alone” and “join me” made sense together, but something about it filled him with an undeniable, bubbly glee, and he found himself grinning enthusiastically. “That sounds perfect.”

“Thank you, Yuuri.” Yuuri’s skin prickled; he was sure he had heard Viktor say his name before, accent drawing out the syllables in its unique way – but his tone was laced with something affectionate, sweet… maybe a little sad, even. Yuuri wanted to take the sad part away, but he was stunned into silence when he met Viktor’s eyes again. So, so gorgeous. 

He quickly dropped his gaze to the ground between them. What was it about today?

He cleared his throat, deciding for a subject change. “So, how far is Clarufretus from here?”

Viktor pointed to the direction of the stream. “If you walk for an hour past the stream and just keep heading south-west, you’ll get there.”

Yuuri tried to imagine that as a physical distance and not just a length of time. He recalled Phichit explaining the situation with maps in Clarusilva and thought back to the old, tattered one at the house. Yuuri had run into issues with the lack of detail (and also familiarity with the place, although that issue was more personal) of the map when trying to plan for Yura’s Fury. He tightened his grip on the sketchbook still in his hands, an idea forming.

“Viktor.”

“Hm?”

“I have an idea. But I think I would need magic to make it work.”

“Oh?” Viktor arched an eyebrow curiously and waited for him to continue.

“Is there a way for me to… see the ground from an aerial view?” The question seemed silly once voiced, and he nearly retracted it but noticed Viktor looked to be taking his words seriously. He was gazing into the tree canopies, scanning the branches for something.

“Yes…” he answered slowly, voice dropping to a whisper. “There is, but…” His eyes dropped back to Yuuri. “I’m not sure if it will work with you.”

Yuuri was surprised there was a solution to his problem at all, but his heart sank at the notion that his immunity would be in the way of anything working. He lowered his voice’s volume to match Viktor’s. “Do you have to use magic on me for it?”

Viktor was searching the trees again. “Sort of, but not really. It’s more like…” he trailed off, but his eyes locked onto something. Yuuri searched above them, looking for what Viktor had found that wasn’t just leaves and branches.

“There,” Viktor pointed. Yuuri followed his gesture until he spotted a crow perched on a branch in a nearby tree. It cocked its head at them.

“I don’t get it,” Yuuri whispered.

“It’s possible to project your consciousness into the mind of another living thing. It’s scary and dangerous to do it with people," he added the last part quickly when Yuuri looked momentarily horrified. "But it’s a pretty harmless spell with smaller animals. It’d still have control, though, but you’d be in there too.”

Yuuri’s eyes widened. “So when it flies…”

Viktor grinned. “You would see what it sees.”

Yuuri stared at the crow, biting his lower lip. It was a pretty frightening idea, but Yuuri was curious now. To basically _fly…_

“How, though?”

“I could try to project you, for you,” Viktor explained, forehead creased in thought. He, too, watched the crow. It squawked innocently.

“It might not work,” he continued. “But do you want to try?”

Yuuri nodded.

“You’ll have to trust me, though. And relax.”

“I trust you,” Yuuri quickly said, and reddened at the eagerness of his voice.

“All right, hold out your hands.”

“O-okay.” Yuuri did so, beating down nerves spawning and ashamed that he couldn’t tell if they derived from the nature of what he was about to do, or because he was placing his hands into Viktor’s.

Viktor’s hands closed around his, and his stomach dropped. He knew the answer.

He took a deep breath and tried to relax and focus away from the intimacy.

“I don’t know what is going to happen if it doesn’t work, but… try to focus on letting me in, okay? Close your eyes.”

Yuuri obeyed. He tried to empty his mind and focus on _letting him in_ , whatever that really meant.

At first nothing happened. Then a warm, tingling sensation began to trickle into Yuuri’s fingertips, as if magic was spilling from Viktor into him. He supposed that was exactly what was happening. He tried to stay calm, assuming everything was working. Slowly, the sensation crept up his hand.

Viktor’s grip tightened; Yuuri wasn’t sure, but it felt like maybe he was actually struggling. He tried to think of what to do. _Deep breaths, empty mind --_

He was so grateful that Viktor was willing to even attempt this. Yuuri didn’t know how much this sort of thing drained someone, and Viktor unquestioningly willing to help Yuuri with his spontaneous idea was exceedingly generous.

The sensation had passed his palms now, finding its way into his wrists. Yuuri scrambled for anything else to help, but he felt useless. He figured it wasn’t going to work and although he knew it wasn’t his fault, he felt guilty.

And then the tingling drained so fast that he barely registered what happened before Viktor was retracting his hands with a gasp.

Yuuri’s eyes flew open. Viktor was rubbing his hands together as if massaging a pain out of them, grimacing as he did so.

“Are you okay?” Yuuri asked.

“Uh, yeah,” he said through gritted teeth. “It’s fine.”

“I hurt you,” Yuuri protested. His heart sank. He hadn’t expected to actually _hurt_ Viktor.

“No, you didn’t. It just didn’t work.” He shook his hands out.

“But it did hurt.”

Viktor sighed. “Yeah, my magic shot back at me. But it wasn’t your fault. You can’t control it.”

But could he? Yuuri only then remembered the passage of the book he had read earlier that day, and an ominous feeling set upon him. It was an eerie coincidence. The book had claimed someone like him could learn to not be resistant. He looked at Viktor still wincing, stretching his fingers.

Something had started to work. What had changed? Had Yuuri began to doubt too much? But even before then it didn’t seem like it was actually going anywhere.

He wanted to understand it.

But he couldn’t ask Viktor to try that again.

“I’m sorry,” he said sadly, and truly felt it. Pushing embarrassment aside, he reached out to take Viktor’s hands again, not sure what he intended to do but feeling too useless to sit and watch him mull over the pain. “Thank you for trying,” he whispered.

“Yuuri!” Viktor gasped, and Yuuri jumped. He let his grasp loosen but Viktor had latched onto his hands again. “How did you do that?”

“Do what?”

Viktor stared at their hands in bewilderment. “I just… maybe it was a coincidence. But as soon as you touched my hands again, the pain just… stopped. Like you pulled it away.”

“I – I don’t know,” he stammered. “I really have no clue about any of this.”

But Viktor didn’t seem to actually be listening for his answer; he was staring at Yuuri with an expression of awe that Yuuri felt uncomfortably undeserving of.

“You’re amazing,” he whispered.

And Yuuri laughed, but Viktor frowned. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s just that I’m… not! There isn’t anything else to say.”

Expecting the conversation to be over, Yuuri was about to pull his hands from Viktor’s and stand up to suggest they occupy themselves another way, but as soon as he attempted to pull away, Viktor tugged him forward.

The closeness forced Yuuri to pull his head back and look Viktor directly in the eyes.

“Yuuri,” he started, and his voice had a tone that signified the beginning of something important, “before I brought you to Hasetsu, I was looking for something. And I –“

He hesitated, and the strained look in his eyes was painful to stare into. It chilled Yuuri.

But suddenly the emotion melted away. Viktor let go and sat back with a sigh. “I’m sorry it didn’t work.”

When he remembered what he was referring to, Yuuri frantically shook his head. “No! No, thank you so much for trying. It’s okay. It was worth trying.”

Viktor smiled weakly and avoided his gaze. Guilt clawed its way up Yuuri’s throat. He kept making things varying levels of awful and it seemed like he couldn’t stop. Desperate for a change of atmosphere, he asked the first question that entered his mind.

“What else do you do when you come out here?”

“Practice, I suppose.”

“Practice magic?”

He smiled, still weak but a little less so. “Yeah.”

Yuuri assumed he was going to have to press further to keep conversation going, but movement caught his eye.

Several stones had lifted into the air. Yuuri gasped and glanced at Viktor. At first it wasn’t obvious he was doing anything, but Yuuri noticed the way his eyes focused on one spot on the ground. At his gasp, the faintest curve of a smirk existed, too.

So Yuuri watched.

The first set of stones were joined by more, and they hovered above Viktor and Yuuri, swirling around one another. They appeared to gradually shift in certain ways that seemed oddly specific and a little familiar. Yuuri watched and tried to pinpoint exactly what pattern Viktor was making. A larger stone wobbled stationary in one place, and others circled around it. They each seemed to follow their own path, but every so often two or three lined up. Smaller pebbles swam around the larger stones like insects swirling around lamplight.

Yuuri tore his eyes from the spectacle long enough to see that Viktor was now staring at his work with graceful focus that made Yuuri’s heart lurch, and he abruptly looked back up.

“Do you know what it is?” Viktor asked.

“Um,” Yuuri thought hard, not wanting to fail to understand what Viktor made despite how beautiful the flittering and flying stones were. His eyes were drawn back to the largest one. “Wait, that’s – that one is the sun! And… oh, it’s the solar system?”

Viktor grinned. Without warning, other stones rose from all around them, tens, _hundreds –_ Yuuri gasped again, unable to disclose his surprise. The stones tossed themselves through the air around the first set. They didn’t seem to have any particular pattern or direction, although some spun in their own random circles as smaller ones chased them. They clattered as they grazed one another, the sound like raindrops slapping a cobblestone road. 

“There’s so much out there we don’t know about,” Viktor commented. “Can you imagine being out there with it all? Alone?”

Yuuri’s chest felt heavy as he wondered what kind of “alone” Viktor meant this time. But he said, “It’s hard to imagine.”

“Mm,” was the only response.

Then the rocks all froze. Yuuri braced himself, unsure if Viktor was about to let them all drop to the ground. But when they began to descend, it was in an orderly sort of fashion, and Yuuri realized they were all going back to their original places across the forest floor. They were like fish descending back into darker depths of the sea, purposeful but calm.

Soon the air was empty again.

“Wow!” Yuuri exclaimed. “Viktor, that was amazing! How do you focus to – no, you don’t need to explain. But that was so cool.”

Viktor’s face tinged pink. “I’m glad you think so.”

Yuuri shook his head in disbelief. “I mean I know I don’t know a lot about magic, but I know about art. _That_ was art.”

Viktor's smile twinged like he was fighting against letting it grow wider. He looked toward the canopies where the sun’s light was weakly trying to break through and said, “We should probably head back.”

“Yeah,” Yuuri agreed breathlessly, still pretty amazed by Viktor. But when Viktor rose he quickly followed him to his feet. Yuuri packed his sketchbook into the bag and they set off.

Yuuri didn’t know what it was, but things felt different, like something had shifted between them. He wondered if Viktor felt it too. They hadn't discussed anything extremely serious or even personal, but maybe it was the attempt Viktor made at sharing magic with Yuuri, or the solar system performance, or the fact that he had taken him out here at all, or _all_ of that together -- that made him feel like he had reached a new level of comfort with Viktor. He hoped the promise to visit the forest more,  _alone together_ , was one Viktor intended to keep. 

For once Yuuri actively tried to resist looking back on everything and overthinking the things he had said and done. It would only dismantle the happiness he felt. And now he had a new project in mind; he still wasn’t sure if it would work, but he was going to try.

Remembering the unfinished painting laying against the wall in the guestroom, Yuuri took advantage of his good mood to ask Viktor something.

“Viktor, about how you got my paints and easel here,” he began.

Yuuri thought Viktor tensed slightly, but his voice didn’t betray anything of the sort. “Yes?”

“Do you think you could do that with something else?”

“Oh, yeah! Of course.”

“Okay. Because there’s this book that I need for something I’m painting.”

“The fish painting?”

Yuuri stared at his feet. “Yeah, that one.”

“I can try. It might be harder if it’s hidden on a shelf or something. It would be easier if I could…” his voice trailed off and his eyes narrowed.

“Would you be able to use me somehow to get to it? Like what we tried to do back there?”

“Yes,” Viktor answered, but he shrugged. “It’s okay though. This will still be ten times easier than the easel.”

Yuuri laughed awkwardly. “I probably didn’t thank you enough for that. I still don’t get how you managed that.”

“It was admittedly exhausting on the level of using the ocean to travel between our homes,” he said, grinning probably at the memory.

“Well I appreciate you doing me the favor.” Yuuri warmly smiled as he thought of something else. “Also… if you see my dog, assuming you’re actually seeing anything, can you let me know how he is?”

Viktor didn’t answer immediately, and they trudged through the forest in silence for a few steps. Viktor had been right about the time to leave. Dusk was sweeping over the earth fast. Yuuri could hardly see where his feet were stepping, although he was comforted by the remaining sunlight breaking through the trees in the distance. They were almost out.

“Do you want to just go back to Hasetsu?” Viktor asked suddenly.

Yuuri’s heart sank. “What? No! I’m fine to –“

“Oh, I meant to visit,” Viktor clarified. “We could go tomorrow maybe. I would be too tired to come back though. Would there be a place for me to stay?” He nudged Yuuri. “Your bed have enough room maybe?”

Yuuri reddened at the joke but thought comfortably of the guest bedroom his family had. Still, though – to bring Viktor back? And introduce him to his family?

However, he did owe his family this. He had been gone for weeks, and although he had sent a few letters of “I’m okay, still alive,” they didn’t have a way to reach him. Actually updating everyone on the amazing things he had witnessed was becoming an increasingly exciting notion.

“Are you sure?” he checked.

“Definitely. Yakov and Yura will judge me for it, but I’d love to get an official Hasetsu tour.”

There was something about that statement that made Yuuri feel excessively happy. He ineffectively suppressed a smile and resorted to adjusting his glasses to hide his face instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again -- thank you for coming this far. If you've been enjoying any part of this story, I'd love to hear from you in the comments! I appreciate it so much! (ﾉ´ヮ`)ﾉ*: ･ﾟ


	7. The Threshold of a Decent Conversation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And I really want to talk to you  
> I really, really wanted to  
> But once you get your mind made up  
> There is no getting through to you  
> -[Grown Man Cry](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_X8GfoIQD4o), Amanda Palmer

When they finally made it back to the house, Yakov and Yuri were waiting at the dinner table.

As soon as they entered, a finger was jabbed in their direction. “Where were you both?” Yuri demanded.

“Are Yuuri and I not allowed to leave during the day?”

Yuri snorted. “Katsuki isn’t usually gone this late. Since you were gone too, I thought he might have begged you to take him home.”

“Sorry I didn’t get to make dinner tonight,” Yuuri apologized, only just realizing it had probably been expected since he had been doing it for so many nights in a row.

No one acknowledged his apology.

“I took Yuuri into the forest,” Viktor announced proudly.

Yakov flipped the page of a newspaper. Yuri gaped in surprise. “What? Not to that secret place you go, right?”

“That’s exactly where.”

"You haven't even taken _me_ there!"

Yuuri tried hard not to register anything as he shuffled through the kitchen to get something for him and Viktor to eat. But the words answered the thought he'd had earlier on whether Viktor often took other people with him on his personal forest journeys, and Yuuri found himself selfishly fighting off a smile.

 _Okay,_ he thought. _Just because Yuri doesn’t go with him doesn’t mean anything._ Then he added, _Neither does the place we went being “secret” mean anything either._

“Oh, and he _is_ going home, though.”

Yakov glanced up, and Yuri actually appeared shocked despite claiming that had been expected.

Yuuri fidgeted uncomfortably, not wanting Viktor to drag out the silence.

“To visit," Viktor eventually clarified. "I’ll be going with him.”

Yakov set the paper down. “ _Viktor_ ,” he said sternly. “Don’t you think you’re needed here to help us prepare?”

“You can’t leave now!” Yuri growled. “I won’t let you.”

Nervously glancing at Viktor, Yuuri wondered if he would change his mind, and almost thought it would be better if he did. The last thing he wanted was to steal Viktor away and leave everyone left feeling unsafe. The knowledge of the battle being upon them settled unpleasantly in Yuuri’s stomach, too.

“It will be fine,” Viktor insisted with a dismissive wave of his hand.

Silence stretched between them, and it seemed like the argument was over and that Yakov and Yuri were simply going to say nothing else, a show of helpless but disagreeable defeat. But, quite loudly and abruptly, Yuri demanded harshly, “Let me come too.”

Yuuri nearly fell over. Yakov grunted out, “Yura!”

“Okay.” Viktor shrugged.

“Then it’s settled.” Yuri sat back in his seat with satisfaction.

“Why, Yura?” Yakov asked.

“To make sure Viktor comes back, of course.” Yuri smirked proudly. Papers that had been laying across the table began to lift from it. Even Yakov’s paper slipped from his fingertips and hovered.

“Excited for a vacation?” Vikor asked.

“Agh!” Yuri angrily slapped the floating pages back to the table. “Of course not! Katsuki’s town sounds like a trench.”

Yuuri would have laughed at how ridiculous the statement was, but he was distracted by the thought of how his family would handle not one, but two extremely unpredictable wizards within their house. It was a recipe for disaster, but reaching out to his family was becoming more obviously necessary. Plus, with the decline in quality of seaside life in Hasetsu, things had grown increasingly bland there. Maybe a little magic would lift everyone's spirits. 

 

* * *

 

 

They stood at the shore the next morning. The sky was clear, the sun bright and glittering on the water's surface. Altogether it seemed a positive omen. Hopefully Hasetsu was sharing this good weather.

“Let’s go!” Yuri demanded.

Something hit the back of Yuuri’s knees, startling him from his gaze at the horizon and breaking his balance. He yelped as he fell back, but he was caught before hitting the ground. He was once again in Viktor’s arms.

His breath caught in his throat; he had forgotten about this part.

Yuuri stared up and Viktor stared down, grinning with a wild, affectionate look in his eyes. Embarrassed and helpless to do anything but to lay there, Yuuri blushed, wanting to bury his face somewhere. The realization that the only place to hide was into the cloth of Viktor’s shirt pushed heat to the tips of his ears.

“Don’t forget to hold on,” Viktor said.

Heart beating prominently, Yuuri wrapped his arms around Viktor’s torso like he did that first night. Back then, Yuuri had been confused and frightened, his mind racing around in nonsensical circles, unable to fathom what was happening. But this time was different. His mind slowed and seemed to become stuck in the moment. Seconds dragged by Yuuri's focus of himself pressed against Viktor, the scents of Viktor’s clothes inescapable and filling every breath he took. Viktor’s arms curved around his back and legs, holding him with an effortless strength that made Yuuri’s head rush. Viktor hugged him closer to ensure he would not drop him; Yuuri’s heart lurched.

“I suggest closing your eyes.”

“I’m leaving you two behind!” Yuri barked from somewhere, hidden beyond Viktor’s body.

Viktor took a deep breath. Yuuri obeyed the earlier suggestion and shut his eyes and focused on feeling instead.

He felt himself tip forward slightly as Viktor leaned in a build of momentum, and then he stepped forward. Yuuri recalled what they were about to do and his chest burst with excitement and curiosity to know and see, but he kept his eyes squeezed shut and held tighter. He felt the moment they crossed into the water, familiar alarm shooting through him as his subconscious mind writhed against the idea of running into the sea; cold water splashed up onto them.

The ocean breeze became a sudden gust, enveloping them in salty air. Yuuri stretched his senses to feel for every detail this time, basking in the mystery and magic; the gust of air seemed to be pulling them forth, and it no longer felt like Viktor was running.

But suddenly it was over. All was still save for the soft sound of the waves and the deep draws of breath Viktor was now taking.

Viktor gently set Yuuri on his feet before bending over with his hands on his knees to catch his breath.

“You’re an old man,” Yuri grumbled from a few feet away.

Yuuri was back in Hasetsu. The tranquility of his home compared to Clarusilva was immediately jarring; there was no one in sight across the beach, and the sounds of the town were quiet enough to be drowned out by the breaking waves.

The pier wasn’t far from where they stood; all the fishing boats were tied down, a sign of no business yet again. Yuuri didn’t even see his family working, and his heart sank for them.

Next he drew his eyes up the beach toward his house; Yuuri wanted to be excited, but he was nervous.  

“Where the hell is everyone? And everything?” Yuri demanded, looking around, eyes squinting as if staring hard enough would make the buildings of Clarusilva sprout from the sand.

“It’s a small town,” Yuuri defended quietly.

A little recovered from the journey, Viktor slung an arm around Yuuri. “And Yuuri is going to show us around! After we meet his family, right?”

Yuuri shuffled his feat in the sand. “Yeah, definitely. There isn’t really much here but I know some good people.”

“Let’s go then.” Yuri impatiently began to tromp away from them.

A figure appeared at the top of the beach, and a female voice called Yuuri’s name. Yuri halted to stare in confusion at the person in the distance, but Yuuri recognized her immediately to be an old family friend, Minako.

She sprinted down the beach, face alight with relief as she slammed into Yuuri and wrangled him in a hug. “You’re _here!_ We thought we saw some people on the beach and one looked like you.” She pulled back but didn’t let go of him, running her eyes over his body. Yuuri adjusted his glasses, mumbling an insufficient string of greetings and apologies, but she interrupted him. “Where have—what are you _wearing_?”

Yuuri was wearing some of the clothes Viktor had given him; he had forgotten how starkly they would stand out in Hasetsu. But he didn’t need to answer Minako because she was already taking in Viktor with wide eyes. “And _who_ did you bring back?”

“Hi!” Viktor greeted casually and extended a hand. She took it weakly, expression blank and face paling slightly. “I’m Viktor Nikiforov. Over there is my friend Yuri Plisetsky. We are Yuuri’s friends.”

Minako glanced between all of them, mumbling the names Yuri and Yuuri a few times to herself in confusion, brows furrowed.

“I don’t know what’s going on, but it’s so good to see you, Yuuri.” And then she lightly whacked his arm. “Everyone has been worried to _death_!”

Yuuri rubbed his arm sheepishly. “Didn’t you get my letter?” He glanced at Viktor.

She scowled. “Exactly! The hell were we supposed to make of mysterious letters supposedly from you poofing out of nowhere?”

Maybe Yuuri shouldn’t have been so careful to avoid explaining everything.

He tried to respond, but she quickly threw in, “And the egg! Was that a joke? Because it wasn't funny.”

Yuuri shot an annoyed glance at Viktor.

“The air is stiff here,” Yuri complained, completely disregarding the conversation. He had his hands extended before him like he was about to use magic, which Yuuri really wished he wouldn’t try.

“Oh, I noticed that," Viktor began to explain. "The magical energy here doesn’t get regularly circulated. It’s a little hard to channel at first, but it’s there.”

Minako’s eyes widened at the exchange, but she didn’t question it. “You better come inside and explain things, Yuuri. And you can… bring your friends.”

 

* * *

 

 

His mother had nearly cried in relief at the sight of Yuuri. Mari had embraced him and called him an idiot. Yuuri’s father took it upon himself to greet Viktor and Yuri, who were each standing by waiting for everyone else to finish exclaiming at Yuuri’s arrival.

Vicchan, though. His dog had barked his excitement at Yuuri’s return and jumped on him immediately. Yuuri laughed, filled with pure glee to see his dog again. Viktor bent down to meet Vicchan, and Yuuri’s heart warmed at the sight of Vicchan immediately taking to Viktor like Makkachin had taken to Yuuri.

Vicchan circled around Yuuri’s feet, tail wagging happy, as Yuuri proceeded to attempt greeting everyone.

To his mortification, everyone gushed over his snazzy apparel.

“I fixed him up well, didn’t I?” Viktor proclaimed, and Mari and Minako both shared passing glances.

After pulling Yuuri aside and making him promise that he was all right and had been in good hands, his mother hurried to begin lunch, and his father followed to help; they made Yuuri promise to not discuss anything until they were all seated together. They wanted to know everything. The guilt at having caused so much worry pained Yuuri, but he hoped the relief of his return would help cloud most of it out.

“Wait, your name is Yuri, you say?” Mari questioned Yuri – who was standing some distance away from the crowd sulking – with narrowed eyes.

“What of it?” he defended.

“That won’t do, that’s too confusing. You can be called…” she paused, thinking, and before Yuuri could jump in and assure her this wasn’t a good idea, she decided, “Yurio!”

_“What?”_

“Yurio!” Viktor shouted. “Much better than anything else we have ever called you.”

“It isn’t!”

“So,” Minako cut in, turning back to Yuuri. “Are Yurio and Viktor here to see you home, or…” her voice trailed off, but the question she wanted to ask was obvious.

Yuuri rubbed the back of his head and pushed his glasses up nose, unable to meet her gaze. Mari's eyes were on him, too. “Umm,” he tried lamely, wondering what the right words were to break the news positively.

She sighed. “Just explain everything over lunch, okay?”

He nodded.

 

* * *

 

 

“It’s katsudon!” Yurio commented on the food presented by Yuuri’s parents.

“Oh, you’ve had this before?” Yuuri’s mother asked with cheerful surprise.

“Yuuri has made it for us a few times,” Viktor said.

Yuri laughed suddenly. “I’m going to call Katsuki _Katsudon_.”

Yuuri smiled; that felt fair somehow.

Nobody wanted to wait any longer before having Yuuri explain what had been going on. And so, before hardly taking a bite of food, Yuuri began his story. He did his best to describe everything that had happened, beginning with the night he had been shopping for rope. Viktor assisted him when he needed to explain the war and to describe the overall political climate of Amorglaci’s Clarusilva and Clarufretus.

Yuuri wasn’t sure if anyone was following what was being said. By the end of his speech, no one was eating. They all simply stared.

And then, “Yuuri, you’ve grown so much!” was exclaimed by Minako.

Yuuri was taken aback. A hand slapped him on the shoulder, and Mari said, “I’m so proud of you, little brother. This is all so insane but you are so brave, and you’re going to help save us all.”

Yuuri wanted to laugh, but when he looked around the table at his family, he saw they were all giving him similar expressions of amazement and awe. He realized that his original intention to stay in Clarusilva was for Hasetsu, but after a couple weeks there, he had quickly understood how much bigger this was than anything Yuuri had been a part of before. The change in perception had watered down the notion of his ability to make a huge difference.

Conversation continued to ensuring that Yuuri was going to be safe, to which Viktor and Yuri noticeably didn’t mention his role in being in the middle of a battle within a few days – however, they did promise vehemently that they would protect Yuuri. Yuuri blushed at their insistence, especially Yuri’s uncharacteristically enthusiastic consent to not letting harm come to him.

After the more serious aspects of the discussion were out of the way, everyone wanted to understand Yuuri’s resistance to magic more. Mianko had the interesting idea that perhaps the entire Katsuki family was immune to magic.

Quickly, Viktor answered, “No.”

Everyone waited expectantly for him to explain further, to which he said, “After being around Yuuri so much, I can recognize the feeling of how he repels magic. It’s like a force in the air around him. No one else has that.”

Minako raised an eyebrow. “After being around him so much, hm?”

Yuuri scrambled to try to kick her under the table, but it didn’t matter.

“Oh yes,” Viktor answered cheerfully. “In fact we spent the entire day alone in the middle of Claru Forest yesterday. I am quite familiar with the feeling of his presence, now.”

Yuuri did _not_ look up and stared deeply into the remaining food on his place.

“Viktor gets distracted too easily. He slacks too much, especially now that Katsudon is around all the time,” Yuri accused, and this started another string of questions and comments that Yuuri wanted to disappear for.

 

* * *

 

 

As promised, Yuuri took Vitkor and Yuri out to tour the town. He was not much of a tour guide, or maybe it was the painful awareness that there wasn’t much that could stand up to Clarusilva. But he did his best, pointing out buildings as they strolled along. Yuuri noticed lots of eyes on them – at first he thought people were noticing the strangers in town, but he remembered he also looked a tad out-of-place now. People he was even vaguely acquainted with seemed to not recognize him.

Viktor commented enthusiastically on many things Yuuri said, and it pained Yuuri to see him trying so hard to humor him. Viktor kept stride right by his side with Yuri hovering several steps back.

“There’s where I met you!” Viktor exclaimed as they passed an alleyway.

It had only been a few weeks, but the memory felt so distant.

“You met each other in an alley?!” Yuri remarked in disbelief.

Viktor took Yuuri by the wrist and led him into the space between the two buildings.

“V-Viktor?” Yuuri stammered.

“How did it go, Yuuri?” he asked. “Something like…” he pulled Yuuri forward suddenly, attempting to mimic that fateful night. Yuuri yelped in surprise, stumbling as Viktor pressed him against the stone wall. The hand holding his wrist pinned it to the wall, and Viktor’s other arm reached out to touch the wall on Yuuri’s other side, effectively locking Yuuri between Viktor and the building against his back.

“And then I held you here and told you I was going to erase your memory.”

Yuuri swallowed hard. Viktor was extremely close, and he wanted to say,  _I don’t think you were this close, I don’t think you were staring at me quite like that, and your voice wasn’t… like that…_

But his thoughts were heavy, his throat dry; he locked eyes with Viktor, forgetting whether or not Viktor had said something that demanded a response from him. His gaze briefly flickered to Viktor’s lips and his stomach flipped.

“You two are disgusting!” Yuri exclaimed. “I’m going to ditch you both.”

Viktor let go of Yuuri and stepped back with a laugh, teasing Yuri with a comment that Yuuri missed as he attempted to catch his breath. His heart was way too weak for these kinds of antics.

He tuned in in time to catch Yuri accuse, “You’re such a creep, Viktor. I can’t believe you met in an _alley_.”

Yuuri laughed, voice shaky. “He had me pretty scared back then. I thought I was going to die for a minute.”

Viktor gave him a wounded look. “Did you not see that I had just saved someone, though?”

Rolling his eyes, Yuuri explained, “That didn’t mean a lot after I saw you wipe her memory with magic.”

They began walking again, but Yuuri was no longer paying attention to where he led them.

“And then you followed me all the way home, right?” Yuuri continued the conversation. “What kinds of spells did you try to use on me?”

“Nothing harmful.”

“Has anyone ever tried pain magic on you?” Yuri inquired.

“Don’t, Yuri,” Viktor threatened.

“Why do you baby him so much? What if he runs into Vavara and her magic works? Or she bottles a spell that someone from Fretus uses and it works?”

“I highly doubt Yuuri will be having a run-in with Vavara herself.”

“You should just let me—“

“No.” Vitkor ruffled Yuir’s hair, but his hand was smacked away quickly. “You just want an excuse to try to hurt someone.”

“That is _not_ true.”

They continued bickering, Yuri insisting upon the importance of experimenting with Yuuri’s resistance; Yuuri strolled next to them silently, until finally something presented itself to interrupt their arguing.

“Oh, up there is Yuuko’s paint shop,” Yuuri said. “She would love to meet you guys!”

Viktor was immediately pulled from his banters with Yuri. “Is this where you buy your painting supplies?”

“Yep.”

The door to the shop was pushed in with a familiar creek, and Yuuko and Takeshi lifted their heads from the counter.

Both jaws dropped as Yuuri, Viktor, and Yuri piled into the art shop. Yuuko was the first to snap out of the stupor.

“Yuuri!” she exclaimed and scrambled around the counter to rush toward him. She gripped him in a tight embrace; guiltily, he understood she had likely been caught up in the worry his absence had caused.

“Sorry,” he mumbled into her shoulder.

She pulled back to take him in with the same manner everyone else did, admiring his clothes.

“You look _great_ ,” she complimented. “I’m so relieved to see you!”

She was on the verge of saying more when her children poured from the entrance of another room; they each exclaimed their own unique comments at Yuuri’s arrival before gaping at the strangers he had brought.

“Calm down, girls,” Takeshi tried, glancing anxiously at the two strangers who hadn’t been introduced yet. Yuuri carried out the introductions, and sighed with relief as Viktor used his charm to ease the overwhelming tension that had been forced into the tiny paint shop.

“Where have you been?” Yuuko asked as soon as the introductions broke off.

Having forgotten he was going to have to explain everything again, Yuuri opted for the shortest route, describing how he had gotten caught up in the feuds of a magical kingdom. The short story was still extraordinary to the ears of the Nishigori family, and they asked enough questions that Yuuri should have just started with the whole story anyway.

In the meantime, Viktor and Yuri casually browsed the paint shop. Yuuri assumed they must be bored until he noticed Yuri gripping a frame to himself. When Yuri noticed his gaze, he stuck his nose up.

“I’m buying this,” he declared defiantly and turned the painting to face everyone. It was a watercolor painting of a tiger laying under the shade of a tree.

“Really?” Yuuko practically squealed.

One of the triplets exclaimed, “We haven’t sold a painting in a week!” But this was immediately hushed by Takeshi.

Yuri did indeed buy the painting; he held it proudly as they made their way back to the Katsuki house.

 

* * *

 

 

The evening passed smoothly with dinner and more questions directed toward Yuuri and company about life in Clarusilva. During this time, it was pointed out that there weren’t enough beds in the house for both Yuri and Viktor. Yuuri braced himself for an uncomfortable joke or two, but Viktor simply stated he would be completely willing to take the couch. Yuri had argued with a violent wave of his hand, “You’re too old for that! I’ll sleep on the couch.”

Gradually, everyone began turning in for the night; Yuuri’s parents were the first, leaving Yuuri the only audience member of Mari and Minako’s persistent questioning of Viktor and Yuri’s magical abilities. Yuuri resorted to petting Vicchan until Viktor addressed him again. “I haven’t seen your room yet, Yuuri.”

“Oh, uh, sure, I can show it to you guys.”

“I do _not_ need to see Katsudon’s room.” Yuri rolled his eyes. “I’m sure it’s fish and paint. I’m going to turn in, I think.”

With that, Mari declared she would retrieve extra blankets and pillows for him, and Minako said her farewell. As she hugged Yuuri good-bye, lamenting that she would not be able to see him off the next day, she whispered into his ear, “I completely approve.”

Heat swarmed to Yuuri’s face. Why did everyone keep doing that?

 

* * *

 

 

“I don’t have a lot,” Yuuri warned as he opened his door.

Vicchan bounded in and hopped onto his bed. Its covers, he noticed, had been left in the disheveled mess he’d made when tearing from his room after seeing Viktor standing on the beach.

The next thing he noticed was the empty space where his easel and paints had been.

“Wait, you’ve seen my room, haven’t you? Because you brought me my stuff.”

“Not really. That wasn’t really about looking around,” Viktor replied. He stepped carefully through the small space, eyes panning over the walls; embarrassment rose to Yuuri’s cheeks when he remembered the many paintings hanging in his room. Maybe he should have taken them down before letting someone in.

“You paint the ocean a lot.”

Yuuri nodded, twisting his hands together. “Well, I do live next to it.”

Viktor grinned at a painting of Vicchan. He pointed and said, “He really does look like Makka. I could take this and pretend it’s her.”

Remembering the book he needed, Yuuri went to his bookcase and scanned it for what he wanted. When he saw the binding with the words _The Book of Fish_ , he pulled it out. He leaned against his wall and flipped through it idly to ignore the heavy presence of Viktor in his room, dog-tagging the pages with the fish he wanted to paint.

“I love your painting,” Viktor finally said.

“Wh-what?”

“I’d only seen some of that one painting you’ve been doing back in Clarusilva, but… these are so good, Yuuri.”

He huffed a laugh. “Thanks, but they’re pretty generic.”

Viktor shook his head. “No. I mean the objects of your paintings are simple. But look how you blend colors.” He gestured to one of the ocean reflecting moonlight. “You add colors that aren’t actually there, but they fit so well, that now I can’t imagine seeing the ocean at night without these bright whites,” he traced along the moon’s reflection in the water, “or these hues of purple,” and his fingers gently grazed across places in the water Yuuri had dabbed the color purple. Yuuri watched his fingers carve through his art, lost in the new lines Viktor traced.

“And how did you make the moon seem so bright?” Viktor circled around the moon in the painting’s sky.

It was a moment before Yuuri realized Viktor had started to watch him, waiting for an answer.

He swallowed hard and wiggled his glasses into a better position. “I – I don’t really think about it, I just paint. I just paint how everything feels, I guess.” _That was the most stupid explanation,_ he lamented.

But Viktor nodded like he understood. “That’s a lot like magic.”

Yuuri didn’t understand the comment but didn’t know how to ask more.

Viktor turned to face him. “Yuuri,” he asked, stepping closer. Yuuri would have backed up if he weren’t already against the wall. “Tell me, have you enjoyed Clarusilva?”

That was an odd question, was it not?

“Yes, I have." Perhaps that wasn’t convincing enough. He added, “I love it there. It’s amazing. Um, it’s different than here. But…” he trailed off, words getting lost as the room grew hotter. Viktor was watching him carefully, eyes searching and deep with emotions that Yuuri couldn’t name, but nevertheless they stirred something familiar within him. He had the awful feeling he was supposed to be saying or doing something but was too naïve to know what.

“What do you think you’ll want to do after the war?”

Yuuri hesitated. It was a loaded question, and one that he hadn’t needed to think about yet.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. _The Book of Fish_ was clutched to his chest. He dared to ask, because he didn’t know what else to do, “What about you?”

Viktor moved _even_ _closer_ , and Yuuri didn’t know why he was always doing this – this affectionate, casual interaction with him, because it wasn’t fair for it always sent _his_ heart pounding, his breath stopping, heat rushing through his entire body.

Viktor pushed several strands of hair from Yuuri’s forehead, and the gesture was so sweet that Yuuri nearly melted into the touch, which alarmed him even more. Viktor’s fingers didn’t leave his face; they caressed gently down Yuuri’s cheek, and he was painfully reminded of Viktor’s fingers running across his painting, light and curious touches, and he nearly shivered. He wanted to look away from Viktor’s eyes, but they were pulling him in like the tug on the tide.

Fingers found their way under his chin and tilted it up, and then finally Viktor answered his question: “I don’t know, either. But there are some things I have started to wonder about.”

Yuuri’s eyes fell to Viktor’s lips: pink, soft, parted slightly as if he was on the brink of saying more. Yuuri felt a tug in his chest like something pulling him forward, and then the head of his attraction rushed into him at once. He wanted to _kiss_ Viktor, the Viktor Nikiforov that was leading Clarusilva into battle against its Amorglaci sister Clarufretus. With the image of him kissing Viktor already dwelling deep in his mind, he felt the pull of a hundred other desires and wants, and he didn’t know how it could have taken this long to realize how much Viktor had transfixed him from the start. He wanted him. It was relieving to admit, and he was horrified.

And the notion of that terror sent a surge of panic through him. He gasped, dropping the book and stumbling to the side, breaking from Viktor’s grasp. “I—I—“ he struggled wildly, overtly aware of the blush that had long crept down his neck. He felt exposed, naked. “I should go to bed. We have to—“ had to what? But Viktor looked confused and it was too much to even look at him to speak right now. He pointedly directed his stare elsewhere. “We have to do a lot tomorrow so we should sleep. The guest room is two doors down to the left.” He pointed toward his door as a gesture, eyes glued to the fold of sheets on his bed.

There was silence, and even though it killed him, Yuuri eventually had to glance at Viktor.

His eyebrows had pushed together in confusion, worry, and… Yuuri thought he saw sadness there, too, but he didn’t know why or understand it, like he never understood anything about Clarusilva or magic or anyone involved with it and it made him tired. But he couldn’t help the prickle of pain that embedded itself into his heart at the strained look on Viktor.

Viktor took a few steps back. “Yeah, of course.” His eyes flickered from Yuuri to the floor where his book had fallen. His expression wavered a moment, but any meaning was lost on Yuuri. “Good night, Yuuri,” Viktor said, and Yuuri bit his lip at the way the sound of Viktor speaking his name made him sink into the floor. He barely managed to throw out a “good night” before Viktor was already gone and his door was shut.

He stood in silence for a moment. And then he fell forward onto his bed and groaned. What had just happened?

Taking a deep breath, he thought.

He had realized just how attracted to Viktor he was. Okay, that was normal and easier to think about without Viktor in front of him.

Viktor was beautiful and charming and _lovely_ and likely had people pining after him all the time. Yuuri did not need to feel strange or gross for admiring Viktor, because he definitely wasn’t alone in his attraction.

If he admitted this to himself, he thought, then it would be easier to ignore it in the future.

Yuuri had never experienced copious amounts of attraction to anyone. People were pretty and admirable and nice. And of course Yuuri had noticed that Viktor was gorgeous. Like in the forest – it had transfixed him so much.

But the tug he felt toward the person down the hall was new. It was a physical longing, a magnetic draw that made his skin feel tight and his blood boil.

Yuuri rolled over to stare at his ceiling, glasses askew.

“Okay,” be breathed a quiet whisper. He just needed to pretend that this didn’t happen, and everything would be fine.

Totally, completely fine.  

 

* * *

 

 

Yuuri changed into clothes to sleep in. He stacked the items he had worn that day neatly on top of his desk, setting _The Book of Fish_ there to make sure he did not forget it come morning.

Momentarily, he glanced upon the painting of the ocean and the moon, involuntarily recalling the caress of Viktor’s fingers down his jawline. He sighed.

A knock came from the other side of the door, freezing him to the spot.

“Yuuri?” the person said, and he breathed a sigh of relief. It was Mari.

“Come in.”

She opened the door just enough to slip into the room, closing it again behind her. The secrecy she moved with gave Yuuri the impression she was here for a serious conversation.

“Hey." She sat on his bed.

He smiled weakly, all he could manage right now, and sat next to her.

Mari seemed about to begin talking, but her eyes fell to the blank space in Yuuri’s room. “Where did your easel go?”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Yuuri grimaced. “It’s with me in Clarusilva, but don’t ask how.”

She nodded, let a few seconds of silence hang between them, and finally asked, “Are you okay over there?”

Surprised, Yuuri answered easily, “Of course. I already told everyone that.”

Mari shrugged. “In front of _them_.” She gestured to the doorway. “But I just wanted to make sure.”

“It was awful at first. But I like it more now. And I want to help both Hasetsu and Clarusilva.”

Mari narrowed her eyes at him, a grin playing at her lips. “Viktor is pretty handsome, isn’t he?”

“Uh, um,” Yuuri spluttered awkwardly, his turmoil from minutes ago not quite faded. Suddenly it made sense – all the suspicious looks between Mari and Minako all night, the comments filled with implications. Was he that transparent? He swallowed hard. “I – I guess so.”

She could clearly see right through him, and she nodded with a satisfied expression as if she had set out to understand something and now had the information she needed.

“Don’t worry,” Mari said. “I think he likes you.”

At this Yuuri laughed. He hadn’t expected her to say something like that. “What? No, no Mari, you don’t know him. He’s just charming with everyone.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Oh, Yuuri.”

“It has hardly even been a month since I met him, too.”

She shrugged. "And it sounds like you'll be with him for many more; there's time." She winked. 

"Did you only come in here to tease me?"

Her grin turned playfully guilty. "Maybe. But I wanted to check on you, too."

"Thank you." 

She placed at comforting hand on his shoulder, squeezed it once, and then left. 

Yuuri tried to empty his mind to sleep. But like his second night in Clarusilva, he tossed and turned. He irritated Vicchan more than once with his restless movement, the poor old dog likely not used to having his sleep interrupted.

Between the images of Viktor behind his closed eyes he also found his mind seeing the walls of the house in Clarusilva, the streets, the forest – sadly, he wondered how fast Clarusilva had become something like a new home. Especially if this house didn’t feel like home anymore.

Did he belong anywhere?

With these tormenting thoughts simmering in his mind, Yuuri was eventually pulled into a restless, uncomfortable sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for all those wonderful comments last chapter! I love you all. Just a few things:
> 
> 1) THE MOVIE. AHH. I am so excited fjdslfjksfj I have spent the entire day screaming and there is no end in sight. 
> 
> 2) Some have noticed already, but for [Phichit Week](https://phichit-week.tumblr.com/) I was inspired to write Phichit's POV during an event that happens later in this story (in the next chapter, actually). It's just a cute and extremely light Seungchuchu drabble, but if anyone is interested, [here it is](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10716345).


	8. Meet Me on the Battlefield

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We carry on through the storm  
> Tired soldiers in this war  
> Remember what we're fighting for  
> Meet me on the battlefield  
> Even on the darkest night  
> I will be your sword and shield, your camouflage  
> And you will be mine  
> –[Battlefield](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GZrddJPGp1I), SVRCINA

Good-byes were said early the next morning after a breakfast Yuuri's mother insisted upon.

Viktor didn't act unusual with Yuuri; Yuuri, however, stammered through a good morning and the first sentences he spoke. Yuri had watched him with narrowed eyes but didn't call him out on acting strange.

He remembered to take _The Book of Fish_ to the beach, and Yuri clutched his painting to himself. Yuuko had wrapped it in papers for him when he explained he had a potentially wet journey home.

Yuuri feigned calmness as Viktor scooped him up and into his arms again. The embrace of his body was warm and comforting and he had the invasive thought of wanting to feel this more, to curl into Viktor and sleep in the warmth of the sun shining down.

Yuuri wrapped an arm around Viktor without having to be reminded. His other arm had to hold onto his book. Viktor looked down, saw why only one arm was around him, and hoisted Yuuri up farther and held him tighter.

 

* * *

 

 

All that was left was to wait for a rainy day. Overcast would be enough. And then Yuri and Yuuri could set off for Clarufretus.

Every day soldiers were out finding new ways to tear down the forest, eating away into it as Vavara provided them with enough magic to break through Clarusilva’s protective charms. As long as it wasn’t already storming and it was only raining or cloudy, Clarufretus’s soldiers would be at work.

Yuuri’s job was to remember the path they were to take and be Yuri’s eyes while he focused on conjuring the illusion of an actual storm.

Everyone's lives were on hold while they waited for the chain of sunny days to end. Any morning they would wake up and it would be time. The anticipation was painful.

Viktor explained to Yuuri the names of people who would be helping in this mission; some were those that Yuuri had already met, others were unfamiliar. Everyone would be waiting in the forest, dispersed in places Yuuri helped predict might need covered. The goal was to confiscate their magic, their tools, question everyone, and then erase their memories of the war to render them useless to Vavara.

They didn’t want to hurt anyone or do anything that would risk Vavara hurting her own soldiers (no one was quite sure how deep her ill-intentions went) – they just needed more information and to be a threat.

Clarusilva wanted Vavara to be stopped without the war between the two kingdoms becoming violent. So far it had just been skirmishes and territory encroachment and the malicious treatment of the forest and sea. No death. And everyone believed so vivaciously that if Vavara’s influence ended then Clarufretus could be reclaimed.

The final goal was to capture Vavara, but she concealed herself well. 

In the meantime, while Yuri practiced his magic with Viktor, Yuuri helped Yakov in the shop to make up for lost help. Viktor and Yuuri weren’t able to visit the forest every day as they originally promised they would, and Yuuri had wondered if maybe he should try to reach out and ask Viktor if he wanted to take the time to visit his secret spot. But Yuuri told himself this was okay. That promise likely hadn’t been serious, anyway, and there was a chance that Viktor was going anyway, but without him. Maybe he finally brought Yuri along.

When things were slow at the store, Yuuri would flit through the pages of _The Book of Fish_ , and each evening he would continue his painting.

He added details to the dartfish, swirling distantly, angry but powerful, scales glistening within the small rays of light ribboning through the water.

And then the stargazer fish, chasing it without luck. In the foreground of the painting, the weedy sea dragon, a majestic fish despite its appearance that mimicked a seahorse.

In a few days he was finished.

In his excitement at the completed product, he turned the easel around to let the light fall on the image better, and it was then that Viktor walked by.

“It’s done!” Viktor exclaimed.

Yuuri smiled, basking too much in the glow of finishing a project to be bashful.

Viktor stepped forward to admire it, rubbing his chin thoughtfully as he surveyed Yuuri’s work. He eyed each fish until finally, he said, “Can we put it in the living room?”

“Oh! It isn’t dry though.”

“No one will bother it.” Viktor was already lifting it carefully from the easel.

“Well, okay,” Yuuri said helplessly. He fixed his glasses and quickly began shuffling paints and brushes back into his box. He grabbed his sketchbook and _The Book of Fish_ before following Viktor.

Viktor set the painting on a window sill and leaned it against the window pane.

“We will get a frame when it dries, okay?”

Yuuri nodded, confused as to why Viktor was so intrigued by his work. He hoped Yuri and Yakov would not be disturbed by its intrusion in the living room.

Satisfied with his deed, Viktor turned back to Yuuri, eyes falling to the items he was holding. “Hey,” he said, recognition crossing his expression, “that’s the book you wanted to get from Hasetsu.”

Yuuri hesitantly held up the book. “Yeah, I needed it as a reference for my painting.”

He held his hand out. “Mind if I take a look?”

“Oh, sure.” Yuuri handed it off. Viktor dropped onto the couch and immediately began flipping through the pages.

Sitting next to him, Yuuri scanned through his own sketchbook, trying to remember the idea he had during his first trip into the forest. He was relatively confident he could achieve what he wanted to if he had the right materials.

“Hey, Viktor?”

“Hm?”

Yuuri struggled with the next words, not sure how to ask for this without giving away his plan. “Is there a place that sells metal? Or scrap metal, maybe?”

Viktor looked over at him questionably, but Yuuri ignored his gaze and stared intently at the sketches in his book instead.

Viktor settled back into the couch, accepting Yuuri wasn't going to explain further. “I guess there’s Georgi’s store.”

“Where is that?”

He explained the directions to him in relation to other places Yuuri was familiar with, and Yuuri nodded.

“Is there a place that sells paint, too? Not necessarily art paint.”

“Georgi’s is a hardware store; he should have that.”

“Thanks.” Yuuri relaxed when Viktor didn’t ask him what he was doing. He intended to gather his belongings and head out right then to look for what he needed, but Viktor spoke again.

“We were supposed to visit the forest together every day, weren’t we?”

Yuuri paused. Or more like – froze. _Yeah, we were_ , he didn’t manage to speak.

He gazed at Viktor, who had shut his book and was looking at him with contemplative eyes.

 “Would you like to go today?”

“Yes,” Yuuri answered easily, throwing the rest of his plans out the window for the sake of spending more time alone with Viktor.

It almost seemed like Viktor was sighing with relief. And then his eyes sparkled with a wide smile and he bounced off the couch, tossing the book onto the table. “Great! I’ll go get ready.”

 

* * *

 

 

It wasn’t like the first day where spending time with Viktor amidst all the trees had changed something between them. But it was similarly fulfilling; ever since the encounter in his bedroom, something had wedged itself between them. Yuuri figured it was one-sided but it still saddened him.

A day of relaxing introspection, sketching, and Viktor creating art with nature alleviated the remaining taught feelings between them. Viktor’s laugh was brilliant as Yuuri stumbled over the forest floor, still not adjusted to hiking. They had taken Makkachin with them this time, and she bounded around excitedly every time someone laughed loudly.

Viktor taunted Yuuri incessantly about his clumsiness, and Yuuri tried to find something to tease Viktor about, but everything he did was beautiful and flawless and mesmerized Yuuri to his core.

As they were leaving the forest, Yuuri tripped not for the first time, and Viktor caught him by the arm.

“Do I need to carry you back?”

Yuuri flushed at the touch. “No – probably, but no.”

Viktor laughed but didn’t let go. “I’ve carried you across the ocean so it wouldn’t be hard.” He stepped easily over a fallen tree; he used his grip on Yuuri’s arm to help him balance as he awkwardly stepped onto the tree, too, before jumping down with an ungraceful thud. Makkachin scurried around it, rustling through the underbrush.

“That only lasts for a few seconds though. I’d be too heavy to carry all the way out.”

Viktor shot him a challenging glance. “Wanna bet?”

“No!” Yuuri squeaked. His foot kicked a rock and he would have went tumbling but was held still by Viktor’s grip. What was wrong with him? He hadn’t struggled this much last time.

“You’re distracted today,” Viktor accused.

Yuuri shook his head fervently. “No, I just can’t do anything right,” he tried joking.

Viktor made a small sound in the back of his throat but didn’t respond fully until he said, “Do you think you’re ready for the battle? It’ll be any day now.”

The shift to a serious subject sobered Yuuri some. He watched his feet as he answered. “I am. I’m nervous but I know it will be fine.”

“That’s good,” Viktor said agreeably, albeit hesitantly. His hand slipped from Yuuri’s wrist to his hand; Yuuri prayed desperately for his palms not to sweat.

 

* * *

 

 

When they made it back to the house it was only late afternoon. Yakov was back upstairs, but Yuri was still out practicing. Viktor and Yakov commented that Yuri needed to rest more to avoid risking being worn out for the actual battle. Viktor announced that he would head to the beach, where Yuri likely was, to bring him home, but Yuuri made a snap decision.

“I can get him.”

They stared, surprised, so he defended himself with, “Since we will be working together, I think it’s important we have spent a little more one-on-one time together.”

Viktor shrugged and fell onto the couch. “Makes sense to me. Thanks, Yuuri.” He shut his eyes.

Yakov didn’t argue either, of course, and Yuuri set off toward the beach.

Sure enough, Yuri was there, but he wasn’t actively using magic. He was sitting on the sand, shoes in a neat pile next to him, watching the waves. The light was fading from the sky behind them, and its golden light cast across Yuri’s hair made it gleam, the strands blowing gently in the sea breeze. His knees were pulled to his chest.

Instead of interrupting his peace, Yuuri quietly stepped into the space next to him and sat down, too.

Yuri tensed when Yuuri first came into view, eye flashing to their corners in alarm, but he relaxed quickly upon realizing who it was, as if he knew Yuuri wouldn’t bother him.

This boy was young. And the pressure that had been placed on his shoulders was a lot. Yuri had a façade of steel, but underneath that was someone a little more delicate.

Just a little.

Yuuri didn’t say anything, but waited for Yuri to speak. Or stand to leave without a word. Anything. He wouldn’t push it.

No one else was on the beach at this time.

Seagulls soared overhead, squawking distantly.

Yuuri let his mind drift to pass the time. And he couldn’t help it: he thought of Viktor. How he had laughed and held Yuuri’s hand for so much of the day, unaware of the hot shivers it sent through him. Yuuri wasn’t sure what was crueler: that he let Viktor exist in his presence unaware of his effect, or that Yuuri had to silently endure his presence.

Yuuri could see his painting now. The beautiful and elegant fish swimming in circles toward the surface. The beautiful weedy sea dragon toward the front, gazing warily down at whatever crept along the bottom of the painting, out of the frame, sifting through the muddy bottoms of the sea.

It fit his situation perfectly. Yuuri, the bottom feeder.

And then he thought of the little dartfish, small but quick and fleeting, an enigma because no one could ever get close before it zoomed off.

“Let’s go,” Yuri spoke abruptly, tearing Yuuri from his musings. He shoved on his shoes and stood up.

“Yeah, okay,” Yuuri responded slowly and got to his feet.

“Did they send you to get me?” Yuri’s eyes were sharp and accusing as he asked his question.

“I offered to find you.”

Yuri’s expression softened slightly but didn’t betray a specific emotion. He nodded.

Part of Yuuri wished Yuri would talk to him about what was on his mind. Maybe they could relate? Yuri was capable of much more than Yuuri was – but still, both of them had found themselves in positions larger and more important than either had ever predicted for themselves.

But maybe Yuri had known this was where he would be one day, and so the weight of Yuri’s problems were beyond Yuuri still. Hopefully coming to find him today was enough to let Yuri understand that he cared.

During the walk back, Yuuri chanced a few glances at Yuri to observe him further – his features remained mostly softened. It was a stark contrast to his typical countenance. Had something changed? As they neared home, his expression gradually hardened, and Yuuri didn’t question things when Yuri kicked open the door and yelled, “Who the hell thought they needed to send Katsudon after me?” This was received by Yakov lecturing Yuri on not wearing himself out; Yuuri didn’t mention that Yuri had, indeed, been doing the opposite of that.

Yuuri planned to silently slip into his room, but Viktor stopped him. He had _The Book of Fish_ open in his hands.

“This one,” he said, pointing at a page in the book. Yuuri stepped closer to see what he was referring to.

Viktor was opened to the page with the Japanese angelfish.

Yuuri had read about it before; it was small, colorful, and rare – but a hardy specie nonetheless. Not a lot was known about it.  

Confused, Yuuri only managed, “What?”

“This is the fish you would be.”

Yuuri’s stomach twisted strangely. He wasn’t sure what to say. What was Viktor doing?

He pointed to Yuuri’s painting. Then back to the book. He didn't say anything, but he didn't need to.

Yuuri said nothing as well, but his mind raced. Had he been that transparent?

“I don’t know what you’re thinking you are,” Viktor continued anyway, “but you’re definitely this angelfish.”

Yuuri opened his mouth. Then shut it. Opened it again.

“Can’t you see it?” Viktor grinned and held the book up so that Yuuri could better see the picture painted of the angelfish, its scales purple but fading into yellow in some places.

He couldn’t. But he managed a strained, “That’s – that’s – thank you.”

He pushed past Viktor, embarrassed.

Shut within the safety of his room, he stripped off his clothes and headed into the washroom. He couldn’t believe the inspirations for his art had been so apparent to Viktor.

Yuuri was torn between humiliation that came with that and admiration that his painting had been capable of communicating his thoughts. His insecurities, even.

And his admirations.

 

* * *

 

 

Mind entering consciousness the next day, Yuuri took a breath and opened his eyes – it was sunny. Relief washed over him.

If it was a nice day, Yuuri had planned a schedule for himself: help Yakov, hang out with Phichit, and visit Georgi's store.

But Yakov declined Yuuri’s assistance in the store for the day; Yuri was taking the day off from magic but insisted on helping Yakov full-time to keep his mind busy. Therefore Yuuri’s morning had been cleared.

Yuuri looked to see if perhaps Viktor wanted to take an early-morning forest trip, but he apparently already left to tend to something else. So Yuuri decided to visit Georgi’s store early and take Makkachin along with him for company.

It turned out that Georgi’s store was a place literally called _Georgi’s_. The outside had large windows that showed off several display items: mostly tools and pieces of machinery and infrastructure that weren't what Yuuri was looking for.

Leaving Makkachin to wait outside, Yuuri entered the store.  It was a spacious room, although inherently bland. It had rows of tables covered in merchandise; the perimeter of the room was entirely made of shelves filled with mostly tools and canisters of chemicals. Yuuri noted with relief that one shelf was full of cans of paint.

“Can I help you?” came a voice. A man was leaning from behind a counter, looking bored and a tad glum.

“Oh, I’m just looking,” Yuuri said by default, but immediately felt stupid because no one goes to a hardware store to aimlessly browse.

The answer seemed to suit the cashier – was this Georgi, or just a worker? – just fine, and he settled back into flipping the pages of a book in front of him.

Yuuri went to the paints first and quickly picked out the colors he already knew he needed. Then he grabbed a large paint brush – his small artist brushes alone wouldn’t cut it for the project he had in mind.

The next thing Yuuri needed to find was a bit odder, and after a few minutes of scanning the tables, he swallowed his pride and approached the counter. The man glanced up lazily at him. Yuuri noticed a nametag pinned to his shirt: Georgi Popovich.

“Hi, um, do you happen to have anything iron?”

“Iron?”

“Like a sheet of iron.”

“What for?”

Yuuri hesitated, knowing that describing what he was doing would sound strange. Georgi took his hesitance with a grain of salt.

“I have something you’re looking for, probably.”

Yuuri expected him to point him to a direction in the store, but he disappeared into a door behind the counter. Yuuri waited only long enough to start worrying he had been meant to follow when Georgi emerged again, dragging a box across the floor. Inside in, in no organized fashion, many pieces of scrap metal had been discarded. Some were in awkwardly cut shapes, but a few were medium-size and rectangular or square, which was what Yuuri needed.

“These,” Georgi began to explain, “are scrap metals. Mostly iron and nickel. Take what you need, they’re basically garbage.”

“Oh, thank you!” Yuuri lit up, glad to not have to pay for such dull items.

He set his paints and brushes on the counter and went behind it to begin choosing what he needed from the assortment of metals. He easily chose a nice-looking sheet of iron; as an afterthought, he grabbed some smaller chunks of nickel and iron, too.

He tried to ignore the feeling of Georgi’s eyes boring into him the entire time. Yuuri assumed he was impatient with him to hurry and get out, but he eventually clarified what was distracting him: “I don’t recognize you.”

“I’m not from here.” Yuuri carried around the metal and set it on the counter and began digging in his pocket for money.

Georgi scrutinized Yuuri’s appearance several seconds longer until dawning realization lit up his expression. “You’re that new guy staying at Yakov’s place!”

Yuuri pushed his glasses up his nose, fidgeting under the surprise of being known. “Yes, that’s me.”

Georgi smiled brightly and began writing the prices of Yuuri’s items on a paper. “I used to be an apprentice of Yakov’s. Figured out magic wasn’t for me, but don’t regret trying. I’ll give you a discount.”

Not certain how to react, Yuuri managed a mumbled, “You don’t have – well, thank you.”

He paid him what he owed, and Georgi piled what could fit into a paper bag, which was everything except the iron sheet.

“Are you learning magic under Yakov?” he asked.

“No, I’m helping with um…” Yuuri’s face heated as he decided to try the words out loud. “I’m a tactician.”

Georgi’s eyebrows raised. “Whew, that’s awesome.”

Yuuri huffed a small laugh and took everything he bought into his arms. “Have a nice day. It was nice to meet you,” he said.

“Wait, what’s your name?”

“Yuuri.”

 

* * *

 

 

Yuuri worked on his project in his room with the door open, waiting for the knock that would signify the arrival of his friend.

A little past noon Phichit did indeed knock, and Yuuri hurriedly sealed the pain canisters and called Makkachin from his room to shut the door.

Yuuri swung open the front door with a smile, but his face fell upon seeing Phichit. His hair was messy and his clothes were dirty.

“Phichit!” Yuuri gasped, quickly stepping aside to let his friend in. “Are you okay?”

Phichit nodded – Yuuri noticed he was smiling despite his rough state. “I’m fine, don’t worry. I just, um, some things happened on the job this morning.”

Yuuri led Phichit to the couch and rushed off to make tea regardless of Phichit’s protest that he was actually fine. To prove this, Phichit resisted sitting and followed Yuuri to the kitchen.

Yuuri decided not to argue with him because he truly didn’t seem that bad off; he listened intently as Phichit explained what had happened to him.

He had gone out to retrieve information from Seung-Gil Lee and Guang Hong as he did quite often, but apparently Clarufretus recently started setting traps in the forest and putting guards on patrol. Phichit had gotten tangled up in a trap. But Seung-Gil had found him in time, having realized that the new patrols and traps intersected their usual meeting place.

As Phichit spoke, he gazed through the kitchen window, someplace distant. Yuuri wondered vaguely if he was tired or in shock.

Unfortunately, all of this meant that Phichit could no longer retrieve insider information from Clarufretus, because it was no longer safe for either he or the double agents to travel the forest too near Clarufretus.

Yuuri handed him a mug of steaming tea, and Phichit took it, sipping slowly.

“I’m so glad Seung-Gil acted fast,” Yuuri commented. “And I’m glad you’re okay.”

Phichit watched the tendrils of steam rising as he agreed. “Me too.”

“It’s good you at least got the information you did today, though,” Yuuri continued, concern lapping at the edges of his mind. This added complications to Yura’s Fury.

“Oh, yeah,” Phichit nodded. “Wish I didn’t lose half my job though.”

“You can just hang out here more.” Yuuri flashed a grin in an attempt to cheer his friend up. He could tell Phichit had been fazed somehow by what had happened, although Yuuri felt like there was more being left unsaid.

But Phichit smiled back, eyes lighting up a bit more. “Definitely. When I’m not writing for Claru-News, of course.”

Yuuri leaned against the counter, an idea coming to him. “There’s actually something I could use your help with.”

Phichit perked up even more. “Oh yeah?”

Combing his fingers through his hair, Yuuri glanced to the floor. “I’m doing something. Making something. And I don’t want to say what it is in case it doesn’t work out, but… are there ANY other maps or images of the forest, anywhere? Like old maps, something in a book, anything?”

Phichit tilted his head thoughtfully and rubbed his chin. “Well, perhaps,” he started slowly. “I guess I can try to seek something like that out for you.”

“That would be a tremendous help.”

The front door swung open suddenly. Viktor walked in, pulling off a coat that he probably hadn’t needed with the warm weather of the day.

Yuuri had to keep a sigh withheld as he watched Viktor move gracefully, from sliding his arms from the coat and hanging it on the coat rack, to pushing his hair back slightly from his eyes. His shirt sleeves were rolled halfway up his arms.

“Hello you two,” Viktor said cheerfully as he strolled into the room.

“Hi, Viktor,” Phichit greeted back, leaving Yuuri’s side in the kitchen and walking toward the couch. He sat down at one of the two longer ones and glanced back at Yuuri expectantly; Yuuri was still standing in his stupor, but the glance from Phichit snapped him into focus again. Viktor was already sitting back on the other couch, emptying his pockets and pouring items onto the table that clattered noisily. They sounded like rocks.

Yuuri sat next to Viktor. Phichit shot him an odd look that Yuuri couldn’t read, but before he could think deeply into it, it was gone; Yuuri redirected his focus to what Viktor had set on the table.

They were _actually_ rocks.

“What are those?” Yuuri asked anyway.

The rocks looks like quartz except they had a light, purplish hue. They weren’t cut perfectly, but still retained a prismatic appearance, with many sharp, jutting edges.

“Amethyst. It’s very easy to channel energy through certain stones, and amethyst is one of the best.”

Yuuri and Phichit simply nodded, eyes on the stones.

The door swung open again. This time it was Yuri walking in, shutting the door harshly. When his eyes landed on everyone, he grimaced. “Didn’t know there was a party going on.”

“Hi Yuri!” Phichit chortled happily, and Yuri looked appalled at the cheerful tone. Yuuri couldn’t help but snicker.

Despite his expression of disgust, Yuri took a seat in the single sofa chair, kicking his shoes off and knocking them to the floor beneath the table and bringing his knees to his chest. He sat back with a pout. “Working for that old man the entire day in that dank shop is so tiring,” he whined. He shot suspicious glances at everyone before asking, “What did you all do today?”

“Actually,” Yuuri quickly started, “Phichit had an interesting day.” He shot his friend a look, and Phichit straightened up.

He recounted the same story he had told Yuuri, although Yuuri noticed this version lacked a few details about Seung-Gil. He wondered if he had been supposed to pick up on something earlier.

When he finished, Viktor was the first to speak. “That is something to consider, for sure.”

“Damn!” Yuri grumbled, and Yuuri found himself wincing in expectance of something to go flying, but nothing happened. “This is so irritating. How do they have the time and manpower to waste like this?”

“We will just have to be on the lookout from now on,” Viktor continued. “Especially when we eventually prepare to carry out Yura’s Fury. Phichit, Seung-Gil didn’t know any of the planned patrol routes, did he?”

Phichit shook his head. “He only discovered they were even going on patrols when he was leaving to meet me.”

Viktor nodded, adjusting the roll of his sleeves as he turned the news over in his head. Yuuri absent-mindedly watched his fingers twist and adjust the fabric.

When he became aware of a silence hovering over them, he glanced up, only to lock eyes with Viktor, who smirked. “Everything will be okay, of course,” Viktor said, holding his eyes, “because we have our lovely tactician.”

Yuuri scoffed at the attempt at flattery. “Oh, yeah. Who’s that?”

Viktor shrugged, leaning back into the couch. “Dunno, but I heard he can control fish or something?”

He rolled his eyes; why did everyone joke about him and fish? “Sounds like a real loser.”

“Mm,” Viktor mumbled in agreement, nodding with nonchalance. “I think he’s pretty adorable, though.”

Yuuri was so used to it now that he was hardly fazed when heat washed over him, and he continued undeterred, “But he hangs out with someone who collects _rocks_?”

“Not a bad hobby, in my opinion.”

“And chooses to control rocks and dirt with magic,” he added in a droning tone. “How _boring_.”

Viktor turned in his seat to face Yuuri now, eyebrow cocked. “I bet that person can walk over rocks and dirt without falling, at least.”

“I’m sure that—“

“What the HELL are you two on about?” Yuri interrupted.

Yuuri’s head turned to look at Yuri and Phichit sitting still and watching them. Yuri looked repulsed, but he always did; Phichit, however, was staring at Yuuri with an expression of dawning understanding, with eyes widened and mouth agape. Yuuri wasn’t sure _what_ exactly was triggering that, but felt flustered by it all the same.

Yuri continued to banter, but his words were directed at Phichit. “Can you imagine me having to spend an entire day with those losers? I almost ditched them multiple times in Hasetsu.”

“Oh,” Phichit said and grinned like he completely understood something _still_ , and then Yuuri realized he had never informed his friend that he had gone back to Hasetsu.

Yuuri turned away, embarrassed of the focused attention.

“Yurio, we just want to keep you ripe and angry for Yura’s Fury,” Viktor chided.

Phichit stifled a laugh. “Yurio?”

“Damn Viktor, don’t call me _THAT_!” Yuri demanded with a raised voice, but still no books or items flew.

 

* * *

 

 

When Yuuri opened his eyes the next morning, he thought he must have woken up early. It was still dark. Sluggishly and with blurry vision, he rolled to the side of the bed near the window and pulled back the curtains.

Outside it was grey, gloomy, the sky swollen with clouds heavy with the burden of unfallen rain.

He abruptly sat up.

It was time.

 

* * *

 

 

Yuri and Yuuri traversed the forest together. A hundred meters forward was Viktor, ensuring that no one was on patrol ahead of them. Chris was one hundred meters to their right, JJ one hundred to the left. Mila was behind.

There were other groups heading out as back up, and Yuuri had heard their names enough over the past few weeks to be familiar with even those he hadn’t met yet.

Michele, someone named Emil, and Sara were planning to scout out groups tearing down the forest farther from the shore’s edge.

Yuuri strained to be quiet with his steps through the forest. Despite the threat of the dark sky, it still hadn’t rained, and the ground was dry. But Yuri seemed too tense to be bothered by the racket that Yuuri made.

They reached the stream, although they were along it in a different place than where Viktor and Yuuri usually visited. This location had a tree that had fallen across it, bridging the two banks. Yuri crossed it with graceful, easy balance, Yuuri following a little more awkwardly. He tried to mimic the way Yuri kept his arms extended from his sides until he finally made it to the other end.

Someone yelled in the distance and together they froze. It came from ahead of them – or maybe it was more to the right? It was hard to be sure, all sounds bouncing and ricocheting off the tree trunks, and the babbling of the stream didn’t help.

“We can’t stop,” Yuri stated lowly.

Yuuri nodded, and with a quick nudge to his glasses, continued onward.

As they got closer to Clarufretus territory, Yuuri became increasingly nervous. He needed to be able to guide Yuri through this, to keep him calm and direct him whenever he seemed to be lacking composure or patience. This hadn’t been explicitly stated, but Yuri was young. A prodigy, but still young. Yuuri couldn’t help but feel a tad protective.

Distantly, Yuuri could see the edge of the forest. His heart beat thickly, but he spoke in an eerily calm voice that surprised his own ears: “Let’s start veering left toward the ocean.”

Yuri altered their direction without a word. Yuuri wondered where Viktor was now that there weren't even 100 meters left between them and the forest edge. They were meant to wait for some sort of signal before starting the storm – Viktor said it would be different depending on the situation that unfolded, but they would undoubtedly know it when they saw it.

“Let’s keep heading downward until the forest breaks off and we can see the shore,” Yuuri soon said.

“Right.”

Yuuri hoped he was doing everything correctly. He had studied the single map enough times, discussed things with everyone over and over, but he felt exposed and small out in the wide, open forest in enemy territory.

They passed a section of the forest that had been burned down. “Pigs,” Yuri grumbled at the sight of it.

“Shh,” Yuuri hushed. “Do you hear that?”

But Yuri was already throwing his hands up. The air shimmered around them, and Yuuri saw that Yuri had enveloped them in some sort of bubble.

“There they are,” Yuri whispered.

Yuuri followed Yuri’s gaze, and sure enough, there was a group of about fifteen or so people beginning to gather in the charred remains of the burnt section of forest. Some of the people were holding torches, others large, awkward guns, something Yuuri hadn’t seen and suddenly wished he never had to see. He didn’t know how he was supposed to be protected from bullets.

“Can they not see us because of…” Yuuri gestured at the glassy membrane Yuri had enveloped them in.

“They shouldn’t be able to see us,” Yuri explained, “and as long as we don’t make extremely loud sounds, they won’t be able to hear us.”

Yuuri watched as one of the people threw a bottle of liquid on a tree, and then another attempted to set it on fire. Yuuri held his breath – but then nothing happened, and he could hear the group of people angrily grumble.

“We have charms all along here,” Yuri whispered. “They’re testing spells and potions Vavara gave them to find one that’ll break them. It’s always like this, back and forth. They’ll break our charms and we just have to make news ones.”

They moved on, and at last they broke through the forest, and a small distance away was the shore and then the wide, familiar expanse of dark blue water.

They stopped partway down the beach.

“Now we wait, I guess,” Yuuri whispered. He looked around, but there was no one in sight. They were too far down the shore to be able to see the group of people at the forest’s edge, but their shouts and talking carried down the beach.

Yuri cracked his knuckles absent-mindedly, glancing between the ocean and the shore. Their shield was still around them, and Yuuri hoped it was going to stay.

Minutes passed with the thickest, most nauseating stillness; Yuuri kept his eyes sweeping their surroundings, anxious to not miss their signal.

He checked on Yuri again. Yuri now had his fists clenched at his sides, and he was staring at his feet with wide and shaky eyes. His chest rose and fell with short, shallow breaths.

Yuuri recognized what was going on immediately.

Softly, Yuuri said, “You’re going to do fine. And you won’t be alone at any moment.”

Yuri blinked, expression slackening. His shoulders dropped.

Then Yuri scowled at the sand and gave it a kick. “Katsudon. You’re not too bad, you know.”

Yuuri smirked. “Well thanks.”

Yuri kept toeing at the sand with his shoe, brows stitched together and teeth clenched. He looked like he was struggling with his thoughts, and so Yuuri waited, watching him patiently, until finally Yuri said, “But I mean, I thought Viktor bringing you here was going to be awful. Thought you’d be useless and a pretty distraction for him. But I think you’ve helped him. So thanks.”

Surprised, Yuuri wanted to ask what Yuri meant, how he had helped Viktor with anything at all except taking Makkachin on walks and cooking dinner, but Yuri shot him a look that told him he wasn’t going to say _anymore_ on the matter, and what he said already was due to the slight feeling of _what if I don’t make it out of here alive_ that even Yuuri felt, despite how safe he knew the others had made sure they would remain.

Yuuri swallowed hard and tried to refocus. He gazed around the beach. Distantly, he thought he saw the flit of a firefly light up. But its light didn’t fade.

“Yuri,” he whispered, pointing.

The light drew nearer to them, and suddenly it morphed into – a fish!

Yuuri gasped – it was the angelfish that Viktor had pinned to his name.

“Fish?” Yuri shot him an estranged look. “Katsudon, is that -?”

“Yes!” Yuuri whispered harshly. “That’s it, that’s the signal!”

“Okay.” Yuri’s voice was suddenly very flat and very calm. “Don’t leave my side.”

Yuuri waited and watched.

Yuri turned to face the ocean, eyes closed. He took a deep drag of breath; Yuuri imagined the salty, muggy air entering him, filling him with sea and storm clouds, preparing Yuri to become one with his pending creation. Yuuri thought maybe he should breathe deeply too, since he was also a small part of this. Inhale. Exhale. Just them – and the brine, and the conjury.

Water began to rise from the ocean. At first it looked like a reverse waterfall, but the water droplets dispersed and rose higher, and the thousands of droplets merged together to form clouds that Yuri raised high, high, and the more water that lifted into the sky, the darker the clouds became. And even though they didn’t raise as high as the clouds already up there, they began to blend with them, dark and brooding. Yuri did this for several long minutes, building his artificial sky, and with it building the momentum of his storm.

Yuuri felt the air around them shift in temperature; it was cool, then warm, then cool again, until a breeze was swirling around them. The breeze turned into wind, rough and jagged and though it was fake and probably only whipping around within their immediate vicinity, it felt alive. Yuuri shivered from the cold and awe.

Yuri’s hands were lifted now, fingers extended, but he didn’t shake or shudder, and then his eyes snapped open. Yuuri nearly gasped; Yuri’s pupils were blown so wide that he looked inhuman. He was biting his lower lip roughly, Yuuri noticed. The wind picked up speed and shouts poured down from the distance.

“They’re noticing,” Yuuri alerted him, voice nearly drowned out by the whipping wind.

Yuri’s chest swelled with an intake of breath. As he exhaled, he turned and took a step forward. Then another. Yuuri followed closely, glancing back to watch as more and more water rose from the surface and filled the sky above them.

“Lead,” Yuri snapped suddenly.

Yuuri hurriedly jumped in front of him and refocused his attention on their surroundings. They needed to not come from immediately underneath where the group had been, but approach them from an angle to push them into the forest.

Although it added minutes onto their trek, Yuuri pulled them away from the forest enough that they could achieve this.

In the distance he saw the tops of buildings – Clarufretus. One towered over the rest, a beautiful, rustic infrastructure that was unmistakably the Amorglaci castle. He wanted to gasp and to stare and to marvel at it all, but knew he couldn’t afford to. One day, maybe.

Someone shouted again, and Yuuri saw a person in the group they were targeting pointing at the sky above them.

“Go!” Yuuri shouted, realizing that a swollen mass clouds hurdling around still seemed suspiciously unnatural.

Yuri yelled something unintellible and thrust his arms forward even more, and rain gushed down in fast, heavy sheets. Yuuri had hoped the shield would keep out the rain, but it didn’t, and they were drenched in seconds.

He jumped as a flash lit the area around them, and a boom of thunder rumbled from the sky above. Had that been real, or Yuri? Yuuri couldn’t say.  

People began to yell, but Yuuri could no longer sense direction or see anything with the heavy rain and sounds of the storm.

Slightly panicked at losing access to his senses, he rubbed at the frames of his glasses and cupped his palms around the lenses, desperate to see what was going on. But the rain was still too thick.

They had to try their best.

Yuuri continued to lead them forward.

Yuri’s teeth were clenched and his upper lip curled back as the rain continued to rush down in a torrent; wind blew from behind so hard that Yuuri didn’t know how someone as small as Yuri could not be carried away, and the rain fell almost sideways. Another flash of lightning accompanied a piercing crack. Yuuri could sense the boundaries of the storm expanding by the way the sounds of rain slapping against previously dry earth bounced around them.

“Make sure you expand it more up that way!” Yuuri yelled, pointing toward the section of land bordering the forest uphill where someone would be most likely to flee toward.

The scent of brine and fish was unusually strong for rain. Right – Yuuri remembered this water had been taken from the ocean. His skin immediately began to itch at the memory that this was salty water falling from the sky.

Yuuri routinely glanced back at Yuri to check on him. His eyes never seemed to shut, keeping the same wild and mad look. His hair whipped around his face with the wind; his focus was beyond anything that Yuuri could imagine a human capable of.

This madness, fury – Yura’s Fury, he corrected quickly – was epic and Yuri was small and angry most days, but here was someone beautiful and powerful. It was incredible.

They pressed forward until they were at the forests edge. Yuuri would have worried they had not succeeded, but there were bottles and tools and burnt-out torches that had been tossed across the grass. Yuri let the storm lash against the forest for several minutes. Yuuri didn’t stop him, figuring it was more realistic to let it rage on for a while longer.

When Yuri did stop, the world cleared so abruptly that it played with Yuuri’s senses to such an extent that he almost felt dizzy. Their shield melted away from them, and the last of the water fell listlessly to the ground in a final, rapid patter.

And then Yuri staggered, swooned, and fell forward.

Yuuri caught him before he hit the ground.

“Yuri!” he exclaimed, staring wide-eyed at his face and looking for signs of harm. But Yuri breathed deep, fast breaths like he was catching his breath. His wet hair was plastered across his face and he looked beyond exhausted, but definitely alive.

Yuuri breathed a sigh of relief. He adjusted his hold on Yuri, and then hoisted him up gently to carry him. 

He took them only a short ways into the forest, only far enough to ensure minor concealment from Clarufretus. He crouched down and laid Yuri across the ground, letting his head rest on his lap.

The plan was that someone would eventually come retrieve Yuri and Yuuri.

Yuuri didn’t know how long they waited there. Despite their apparent success, every passing moment was another someone from Clarufretus could find them.

Yuri hardly stirred, laying limp across Yuuri’s lap. To distract himself from worrisome thoughts, Yuuri focused on the steady rise and fall of Yuri’s chest.

Clothes soaked through to his skin, Yuuri had quickly grown cold, and he shivered within the chilly shade of the forest. Was Yuri cold, too? Probably. There was nothing he could do to keep him warm but provide his own body heat through their contact, although they would both still probably get sick.

The sound of a slight pattering carried from the treetops, and small droplets of water began to trickle down. It was raining, a real rain that had come to wash away the brackish evidence of their day.

Yuuri stiffened as he heard someone approach, steps squelching now that a sheen of moister was beginning to cover everything.

“Hey you two.” Yuuri relaxed as Chris stepped into view between a couple trees. His eyes immediately fell to Yuri. “Is he okay?”

“Yeah. I think he’s just exhausted.”

Chris knelt down beside them. His eyes panned across Yuri's body, and Yuuri wondered what he saw, if Yuri’s aura was weak and fading, or perhaps it was blossoming into something new he had never seen before. “I’ll try to rejuvenate him enough to allow him to walk home. But Sara is much better at healing, so don’t judge my work.” He said these words with a teasing tone, very aware Yuuri couldn’t differentiate between good and bad magic.

“You’re okay too, right?” Chris checked.

Yuuri nodded.

Wordlessly, Chris hovered a hand over Yuri’s forehead, a faint glow emanating from it. He gently pressed his palm there, and the light pulsed several times before disappearing.

When Chris withdrew his hand, Yuri’s eyes fluttered open. An expression of confusion quickly blew into one of panic, and he shot up. “What happened?!” he yelled, frantically looking around. Involuntarily, he conjured a gust of wind that swept passed them, spraying the drizzling rain into their faces. It was like the last tendril of Yura’s Fury had left him; his shoulders sagged, and he leaned forward, hands on his head.

“Ow, I’m so… tired.”

Chris said, “You both did amazing. Everything was a success. Some of the others haven’t regrouped yet, but we got what we needed.”

“Really?” Yuri asked hesitantly.

Chris turned to Yuuri. “What would you say, Yuuri? Did it seem like a success?”

Yuuri nodded confidently, and then looked at Yuri. “No one else could have made lifting the sea look quite so easy.”

Yuri’s eyes widened, and despite the clammy and damp chill they were sitting in, his face tinged pink.

“Well, I – I-“ he started, flustered, then straightened up some. “I just hope those damn pigs got what was coming to them!”

Chris laughed and stood, offering Yuri a hand and lifting him to his feet.

“Think you can walk back?”

“Of course,” he spat, wobbling slightly but playing it off as a stretch.

“Then let’s go.”

 

* * *

 

 

As they walked, Chris explained the details of what have been achieved.

While other groups had effectively interrupted patrols, and some had ceased other groups attempts to hack at the forest, Yura’s Fury had managed to push their targeted group well into the embrace of the trees, where they had been held captive and questioned. Some of Vavara’s magic had been confiscated, which was extremely beneficial for staying one step ahead of her. Then Viktor had erased their memories of their purpose in the war, and they were sent off.

When they emerged from the forest, something slammed against Yuri and Yuuri and crammed them together in a tight embrace.

“I am SO proud of you both!” cheered Viktor from above them, and hugged them even tighter.

Yuuri went limp, but Yuri immediately squirmed angrily.

“You’re going to make me pass out!” he whined. “Get off!”

Viktor let go but continued smiling widely at them. “I couldn’t really see much of the storm, but those Fretus soldiers were horrified.”

From behind Viktor, other familiar faces were coming toward them, some of them clapping and yelling compliments.

Sara quickly stepped in front of Yuri and put a hand to his forehead. She shut her eyes in contemplation while Yuri grimaced at her touch. Mila popped up beside Sara.

“Good job, you two!” She specifically flashed Yuuri a gleeful smile. “Was that thrilling or what?”

“Yuri was amazing,” Yuuri agreed.

“But you too, Yuuri!” Mila said persistently. “This was all your idea.”

“Yuuri is quite amazing, yes?” Viktor claimed, hands on his hips. “And I see I taught Yurio well.”

Yuri scowled at him from under Sara’s resting hand. “Don’t take my credit!”  

Sara opened her eye and withdrew her hand. “We need to get Yuri back soon to rest.” She glanced at Yuuri. “You’re both probably going to get sick from the rain, but you’ll recover.”

Yuuri nodded, expecting this. He pushed his glasses up.

“Sara, do you have to go back with them?” Michele said, trotting up to their group.

“Just to make sure Yuri is okay when Chris’s magic wears off.” She glanced to the sky; it was still raining lightly, but it was starting to come down faster. “Let’s hurry.”

Michele sighed, but nodded and said, “I’ll come along to make sure you get back safe.”

“We should throw a celebratory party,” Chris interjected in a lighter tone.

“Yes!” Mila piped up. She cast a wary gaze over Yuri; he was already beginning to slump with fatigue again, but his expression was hardened as he fought for his strength. “After everyone heals,” she added.

“Phichit is at our place trying to cook,” Viktor told Yuuri when they had started their trek back into Clarusilva.

Warmth bloomed in Yuuri’s chest. “That’s so sweet of him,” he said.

Viktor nodded. “You’ve really inspired some people, Yuuri.”

Yuuri didn’t respond, partially because he didn’t know how, but mostly because his own fatigue – physical and mental – was beginning to pull him down. He hugged his arms to himself as he shivered against the rain again. He would probably never completely empty the cold from his bones.

He was startled by something thick and heavy draping across his shoulders.

Viktor had placed his jacket over him. Wordlessly, he gave Yuuri a warm smile. Yuuri’s heart melted a little.

He tugged the jacket around him, relishing how it was still warm from Viktor’s body heat. It smelled like him, too.

Yuuri couldn’t wait until they got back home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To read what happened to Phichit during his little mishap, check out [this companion fic](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10716345) ~
> 
> It started hailing outside as I finished editing this today. Yura's Fury has reached me. ヽ(°〇°)ﾉ 
> 
> Again, thank you everyone!


	9. Everything in Moderation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They say everything in moderation  
> But I'll drink you under the table  
> I'm not just drunk  
> I really think I'm in love with you  
> –[Run Dry](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HRQTWmmrNVo), Patrick Stump

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A more light-hearted, fun chapter I just wanted to have fun with! It's short but I don't know what took me so long to edit and post it. @_@ I'll edit it into the tags, but this chapter contains alcohol consumption and drunk POV. Lol... and just like that everyone already knows where this is going...

Yuuri did get sick. But nowhere as badly as Yuri, whose exertion had weakened his immunity more, and he was in bed shivering with a fever for two days.

Clarusilva's citizens brought food and other offering as gifts to the household for Yuri’s efforts, and when news spread that he was ill, people began bringing soups still hot in their containers and homemade medicines. The food was more than all of them together could eat, but Yuuri at least didn’t need to worry over making dinner as he took care of himself.

Being sick was, unsurprisingly, not something Yuri handled well. He was often caught sneaking around and claiming to be better, only to nearly pass out soon after. Everyone – even Yuuri – had at one point dragged him back to bed. Sara needed to be called upon only one time to assist in convincing Yuri back into bedrest, and it had been the last time. Apparently whatever she said (or did) had convinced Yuri to not attempt escape until he was actually well again.

In the meantime, Mila and Chris worked together to plan a party the entire city was invited to. It was to be a formal event, and they were asking everyone to try to bring something in the form of food or drink so that the event could be hosted without much cost to anyone. 

Yuuri had momentarily fretted over what to wear, but remembered Viktor had included plenty of formal clothes in what he’d saved for him. At the time, Yuuri thought there would never be a use for them.

And so Yuuri looked himself in the mirror, sighing. He felt hot and uncomfortable in the suit he was wearing, as well as a little ridiculous. He was used to adorning unfamiliar clothes now. But this was, yet again, a progression unto even newer terrain.

He straightened his posture, pushing his shoulders back. Tonight would be fun. It was meant to be fun. He didn’t need to feel anxious for the crowds of people that would be present that night, many which had now heard the news of his hand in the battle and would probably want an introduction, to which they would be promptly disappointed by his meek presence.

Before he left the room, he had the sudden urge to leave his glasses.

The world blurred at its edges. He shook his head; it wasn’t worth not being able to see. And who was he trying to impress? He slipped his glasses back on.

He was embarrassed to find everyone already waiting in the living room in their own snazzy dress.

His breath caught when he saw Viktor – of course, he should have been prepared for it.

Viktor looked over at him with a pleasant smile that immediately faltered, but Yuuri didn’t pay attention to whatever emotion was crossing Viktor’s face, because he was now caught in how gorgeous Viktor was. He wore a grey suit, and it really wasn’t extremely special except that the formality of the attire accentuated Viktor’s already-present grace and beauty, and the dress made him appear a tad taller and hugged his hips and thighs just enough to make Yuuri’s breathing stutter.

“Are we ready to go?” Yuri broke the silence.

Eyes to the ground, Yuuri stepped forward, trying to hush his wild thoughts.

But already someone was within his peripheral vision and he looked up again; Viktor was offering him his arm. Distantly, far away, Yuuri thought he heard Yuri scoff and Yakov already walking out the door.

“Shall we?” Viktor asked.

Dazedly, Yuuri looped his arm around Viktor’s, and they followed the others out the door.

“You look rather good in that old suit of mine,” Viktor told him. “I sort of forgot you would be wearing one of my old things. It caught me off-guard.”

Yuuri blushed, mortified. “I-I’m sorry, I should be buying my own clothes, I just –“

“No, don’t be sorry,” Viktor quickly assured him. “That isn’t what I meant.”

Yuuri didn’t ask what he meant.

 

* * *

 

 

One of the fancier restaurants in the city was hosting the victory party. The staff had pulled the tables and chairs to the side to make space on the floor for mingling and dancing, but they preserved the accessibility to the chairs for anyone who wanted to take a seat. A few groups of people had volunteered to play music for the event, and many others had followed through on bringing drinks and food. 

The entire ordeal gave Yuuri a much stronger idea of the closed-knit community of Clarusilva. Hasetsu was calm, and its sense of community revolved around the relief of remaining aloft another year by keeping its small economy together. Clarusilva was exciting and bold.

When they arrived, the party was already starting to come to life. They were immediately handed drinks, and Yuuri downed his quickly for fear of stumbling and spilling it somehow. Phichit was already there and ran up to hug Yuuri, breaking his contact with Viktor.

Music was trilling through the air, people were laughing and talking and drinking, most of whom Yuuri didn’t know but he caught a few familiar faces of people who would either wave at him or stop to say hi. Mila, Sara, and Emil - who he met officially for the first time - passed by to say hello. Chris, too, but he hung around Yuuri to talk a bit longer, noticeably probing Yuuri for why he was wearing Viktor’s old suit.

“All my clothes are Viktor’s old stuff, actually,” Yuuri told him. Chris laughed like it was a joke and pranced away to another group of people.

Viktor was almost immediately swept away by hordes of people eager to talk to their war leader; Yuuri wasn’t sure if he was grateful for that or not. He wanted to be around Viktor as much as he wanted to be a thousand miles away, because he couldn’t handle the way his heart pounded through his chest in his presence.

Phichit, good friend he was, hung near Yuuri despite the fact that Yuuri was nervously sipping his drinks in a corner and only talking to those that approached him.

Phichit asked him strings of questions about how things had been going since the battle. He had, of course, made dinner for them all the day of, and afterwards had dropped in occasionally to steal a few brief interviews for Claru-News. But with Yuri and Yuuri both exhausted and ill, Phichit felt too guilty to ever intrude long. And so Yuuri appreciated the opportunity to catch up now, even though they were constantly interrupted by various people.

Celestino, seeming a bit woozy, appeared in front of Yuuri. He took the hand of Yuuri’s that wasn’t holding a drink and shook it firmly.

“I know we have met before, but I didn’t think you would end up a part of something so big,” he said, grinning appraisingly. “Very honored, thank you for what you have done.”

“Thank you, yeah I – didn’t really think this would happen either.”

Phichit stepped toward them. “Yuuri is full of surprises, isn’t he? Celestino! Have you talked to Yuri yet?”

“Was planning to seek him out next,” Celestino replied, swaying slightly on his feet as he turned his head to presumably look for Yuri.

Yuuri had to pry his hand from Celestino’s grasp, for he’d forgotten to let go.

“Over there!” Phichit exclaimed as he pointed across the room.

Yuri was currently being swarmed by several people, many of them noticeably young and female. Though they couldn’t hear what was being said, Yuri was flustered as he aggressively and defensively waved his hands in front of him.

“Ah, yes,” Celestino affirmed before stalking off.

“Hopefully he can save Yuri,” Yuuri commented as they watched him go.

Phichit shrugged. “Yuri just has a lot of fans now.”

They launched into another conversation, and Yuuri reveled in the fact that the longer the party went on, the more people became interested in dancing and laughing than meeting him.

It was only when Phichit was in the middle of telling a story that Yuuri noticed he hadn’t been aware of his voice the entire time, and he recognized the faint light feeling in his head and realized he had been slowly nursing much more than one drink to keep himself busy. He probably should have eaten more before coming, or taken advantage of the food available. 

“Crap,” Yuuri muttered, interrupting Phichit and shaking his head. “What did you say?” He’d been standing still for so long, gazing in some nondescript direction. To move again was jarring, the world suddenly swishing around him. Somewhere in his mind, he felt a nervous twinge that seemed to by trying to warn him of something wrong.

Phichit gave him a blank stare for a second before laughing. He slapped his hand on Yuuri’s shoulder. “Having fun?” he asked.

Yuuri blinked. “No, not – I mean yes, I guess.”  

“Do you want water?”

Assuming Phichit was asking if he was thirsty, Yuuri shook his head. “Not at all.” He didn’t feel thirsty at all.

Phichit turned away to reach for something; when he turned back, he was handing Yuuri another glass. “Try this one,” he said with a sly smile.

“Is it water?” Yuuri asked, eyeing it suspiciously, but he immediately forgot why it mattered if it was water or not and drank whatever it was anyway as he gazed around the room.

“It wasn’t, probably because I’m a bad friend,” Phichit joked, but Yuuri still turned to him in alarm.

“Phichit, you are NOT a bad friend.”

Another mischievous smile. “Oh?”

Yuuri put his hand on his friend’s shoulder, possibly a little roughly. “I’ve missed you so much. You were the first thing I wanted to stay here for.” Somewhere Yuuri felt like the words didn’t explain what he meant well, but he hoped Phichit would understand anyway. His head buzzed with the glow of alcohol and something still pushed at his hazy consciousness to tell him he was supposed to be taking caution of… something. But he couldn’t figure out what, and – what?

He laughed. Out loud, which was weird because he hadn’t said anything.

“Okay, I shouldn’t have given you another drink.” Phichit had a hand on Yuuri again. “Now I really am a bad friend.”

Yuuri started to shake his head, but then he caught a glimpse of silver hair across the room. And a grey suit. _Yes,_ he thought. He felt like he had been looking for Viktor without realizing it.

Yuuri cupped his hand over his mouth and giggled. “Phichit, look,” he whispered, lifting his hand between them to point secretively at Viktor.

“Viktor?”

Yuuri giggled again. “Isn’t he so pretty tonight?”

Phichit’s eyes widened. “Oh, Yuuri,” was all he said, and Yuuri looked him square in the eyes.

“You don’t think so?”

“No, I do, it’s just that…” his friend hesitated.

Yuuri didn’t wait for him to try and find whatever words he was looking for. He pinched the bridge of his nose and grimaced in feigned distress. “He’s so beautiful all the time that I can hardly breathe, _ever.”_

Phichit just watched him, so he carried on, whining about whatever flowed into his mind that had to do with Viktor, Viktor, _Viktor_ always being there and smiling at him and complimenting him and touching him.

And then Chris was there, holding out a glass to Yuuri. “Have you tried this wine?”

Yuuri took it without thought, though Phichit was somewhere nearby exclaiming “ _No, wait_!” but he downed it and watched in distant confusion as Phichit started explaining something to Chris. Chris glanced at Yuuri as he did, an amused grin spreading across his face. He started staring all around Yuuri, looking past and through him and at his edges, and Yuuri shoved the empty glass back into his hands.

“Chris,” he said, “I know you’re trying to see my _whatever_ energy. I always know when you’re trying and can tell when you can and you can’t and I don’t know what to do to let you in and out of that but I don’t appreciate being read.”

If Chris answered, he didn’t notice past his slack jawed expression.

Yuuri strode away from them. He was vaguely aware of eyes on him as he walked, and they agitated him almost as much as the heat in the room did.

“Yuuri, don’t take that off,” someone whispered in his ear, and he looked back in surprise to see Phichit following him.

“What?”

“Your tie! Or any of your clothes.”

Yuuri looked down and realized that he had been tugging his tie down and it now hung in a loose loop around his neck.

“Crap," he muttered. He had ruined his perfect attire and couldn’t remember how to fix the tie.

“Yuuri?”

Oh, _an angel._

Viktor stood before him. When had he approached them? Yuuri had been walking toward Viktor, but somehow Viktor had met him halfway, like he had noticed Yuuri as much as Yuuri had noticed him. The notion seemed relevant to Yuuri somehow, but he couldn’t figure out why.

But Viktor’s gaze was directed next to him, not on him, which seemed wrong. Yuuri turned and saw that Phichit had been saying something to him, hands flailing wildly in hurried gestures. Yuuri narrowed his eyes.

“What did you just say?”

“Nothing!” Phichit quickly gasped. “Why don’t we get a drink of water?”

Yuuri looked back toward Viktor. Viktor was staring at him like he always did; it was in those ways that he let his eye gaze up and down before resting on his face and staring directly into his eyes, and Yuuri usually collapsed under the intensity of the attention, but this time he didn’t feel fazed. He may as well take advantage of that, he thought.

“Phichit,” he turned back to his friend, shaking his head in mock disapproval. “I think Viktor and I need some time alone.” He heard himself laugh at the absurdity of his words. Why would he ever say something like that?

“You heard him,” Viktor said, and Phichit looked momentarily horrified, but Viktor also said in a much lower voice that Yuuri could still hear but not comprehend, “I’ll take care of him.”

“Viktor!” Yuuri demanded his attention again. Yuuri stepped forward and gripped fistfuls of Viktor’s suit in his hands. Viktor leaned back at first, surprised, but when Yuuri staggered slightly he gripped his sides firmly.

Vaguely Yuuri was aware of people dancing and swirling to music around them; he thought for a moment that he would like to dance. To dance with Viktor. But he couldn’t remember at all how, which was quite disappointing.

“I would ask you to dance,” he explained, looking up at Viktor with sad, wide eyes. “But I can’t right now.”

Viktor laughed at what he’d said, which Yuuri thought hadn’t been a joke but a serious confession, and Yuuri reddened with humiliation. He groaned and pressed his head into his chest. “You think I’m stupid.”

“No, no, Yuuri,” Viktor said, pulling back just enough that Yuuri was forced to hold his head up again and look at Viktor. “I have never thought that.”

Yuuri’s heart warmed at the sort-of compliment and he felt like repaying it. “You know,” he started, “I don’t paint people a lot, but I would paint you. Over and over and over but it wouldn’t be that good because I could never paint something so beautiful. Nothing I paint is that good, you know?” He rambled on for some time about how his paintings are never what he intended them to be starting out.

Yuuri’s mind was too slow to really understand the expressions across Viktor’s face, but they flickered and changed with every new thing he said, and it was so captivating and beautiful; Yuuri's heart seized as the understanding flitted through his mind that he was evoking these physical reactions in Viktor, and Yuuri wondered how many times he could make Viktor’s expression morph into something new.

So he spouted off all the things he could think of, not really aware of whatever his words were, but he was sure they were good and true things. He had thought about it all a lot recently – about the way he wanted to always be touching Viktor, caressing his hair, feeling his fingers trace down his jawline, hearing Viktor say his name. He shivered as his brain wracked through all the different types of _Viktor_ things that made him feel warm and fuzzy inside. And sometimes hot. So very, undeniably hot.

He was not aware when Viktor tried to tell him to relax or calm down or take a break, and he didn’t notice either when Viktor had led him to a chair and let him sit.

When Yuuri realized they were sitting, he noticed Viktor had seated them with a table between them, and he shook his head. There was no way Viktor could hear him talk with that distance between them.

He stood up, swaying slightly, but managed to stagger to a chair next to Viktor. When he sat down, he shot Viktor an accomplished look. Viktor’s face was extremely red and flushed, and Yuuri didn’t know why except that maybe it was how hot the room was. But maybe he had flustered Viktor with something he had said - the idea was pretty funny considering that Yuuri was usually the one in that position. The roles had switched at last!

“You’re so cute when you look like me,” Yuuri laughed.

“Wh-what?” Viktor stammered.

“Mm,” was all Yuuri managed as he slumped into Viktor’s side, a wave of severe exhaustion knocking him over. Viktor was warm and sturdy and Yuuri could imagine always leaning into his side, every night before falling asleep, and he wished Viktor would put his arms around him.

“What did you just say?” Viktor asked. Yuuri glanced up, not sure how to answer because he didn't think he was speaking out loud. Viktor’s eyes were wide, his face still awash with blush. It extended down his neck and probably across his chest, too, but Viktor was wearing too many clothes for him to be sure. He sighed and rested his head on Viktor’s shoulder again, letting his eyes fall shut.

When it was just him and Viktor, it was always so easy to forget there was anyone else around. Yuuri figured that was why the sounds of music and laughter died away as soon as he shut his eyes.

Somewhere above, Viktor whispered quickly, “Yuuri, you keep talking out loud,” but the fuzziness of Yuuri’s mind was already dragging him down, down, slowly, to somewhere dark and warm and happy.

 

* * *

 

 

Yuuri shot up in bed.

Beams of morning light filtered into his room.

He blinked.

He didn’t remember going to bed. That was the first alarming thing.

He was extremely thirsty, he felt a little nauseous, and the sunlight coming into his room made him ever-so-slightly disgruntled.

“Oh my god,” he muttered as he stared down at himself. He wasn’t wearing a shirt.

Yuuri swung his legs out from under the covers. He was still wearing his slacks. Then he noticed the suit top and the shirt and tie he had worn crumpled haphazardly on the floor near the room’s door.

He wracked his brain, but he couldn’t remember the events of the previous night. He had left here, arm linked with Viktor’s. But they were separated when they had arrived, and then he had stayed near Phichit. He remembered drinking multiple glasses of wine and champagne or whatever was available, too nervous not to be kept slightly distracted by something and (apparently) too stupid to not just sip water instead of alcohol.

And then he was here.

Yuuri noticed his glasses folded neatly onto the nightstand next to him, and his heart sank, becoming a heavy clump of realizations and cold acceptances in his stomach. There was no way that, drunk as he seemed to have been, he would have neatly set his glasses on the table next to him. Someone had assisted him.

He jumped out of bed, wincing slightly as his head pounded with the sudden movement. He tore the rest of his clothes off and hurried to the bathroom. He bathed thoroughly, cleansing himself of sweat and spilled alcohol of the night he couldn’t remember.

 

* * *

 

 

When Yuuri dressed and gathered enough courage to leave his room, only Yuri and Viktor were up and about. Yakov likely opened shop already.

When Yuri’s eyes landed on him, he scowled and glanced at Viktor, who took Yuuri in with a long, studious gaze.

Yuuri cleared his throat. “Good morning.”

Viktor was fumbling around in the kitchen, and it took Yuuri a moment to understand that he was making breakfast.

“How are you feeling?” Viktor asked. From the way Yuri kept watching him with an intense gaze and Viktor glanced uncertainly between him and the food he was preparing, Yuuri knew he must have made a fool of himself the night before.

“Good,” he lied, but quickly decided there was no point in lying about that. They had all been there as witnesses to his antics. He could only hope he hadn't been too much of an annoyance. “Actually, not good. Awful.” He entered the kitchen to get a glass of water.

Viktor huffed a small laugh. “Yeah, last night was—“

Yuuri squeezed his eyes shut as he interrupted with, “I don’t remember anything.”

Everyone was silent.

Yuuri gulped water anxiously.

And then, finally, Viktor said in a voice that was too cheery, “You had fun, don’t worry about it.”

Yuuri grimaced. It was probably even worse than he originally thought.

“I don’t think I want to know,” was all he managed. He thought Viktor looked saddened at the words, but Yuuri couldn’t imagine why, unless it was that teasing him would be less effective because Yuuri could just pretend it all didn’t happen.

He decided to not think about it. In fact, he wouldn’t think about anything from the previous night. He internally kicked himself for ruining what was supposed to be a good memory. Yuuri needed to be cherishing the time he had in Clarusilva, not squandering his remaining time here with Viktor and all these amazing people with moments he wouldn’t remember.

Viktor served breakfast, and the food was so cutely and naively prepared that Yuuri couldn’t help the small thought from escaping into his mind that ifhe could manage to remember every moment following now in its purest form, not befuddled by the stretch of time and weakness of the human mind, then he could accept his one mistake.


	10. Do Not Go Gentle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Though wise men at their end know dark is right,  
> Because their words had forked no lightning they  
> [Do not go gentle into that good night.](https://www.poets.org/poetsorg/poem/do-not-go-gentle-good-night)  
> Dylan Thomas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is heavier and deals with death, but not of main or minor characters!

Yuuri was alone in Yakov’s shop – completely alone. It was a slow day, for the city had calmed down significantly after the recent victory.

Yuuri leaned over the counter with his elbows to prop him up. It was still early in the day, but Yuuri felt close to falling asleep. He watched the warm lull of sunlight filling the streets beyond the glass panes of Yakov’s shop. People walked past, mouths moving silently as they talked amongst themselves.

The brightness outside contrasted so much with the low-lit shop that Yuuri felt trapped in a box.

 _And_ one might say he was quite bored.

Yuuri’s head dropped forward as he began to truly doze and he snapped awake with a startled grumble. He pushed himself from the counter and stretched, trying to fight off his drowsiness. He left the counter to meander around the shop, idly staring at the objects on shelves and looking for anything that might need straightened for the third time that day.

He lifted a chunk of rock from its place on a shelf. The label beneath it read lodestone. He tried to occupy his mind by running through bits of information he managed to retain from Viktor about the types of magical properties different stones and crystals had.

The stone was coarse as he brushed his fingers over its surface – a faint brush of silver was left behind on the pads of his fingers as he did so. Yuuri found himself drawn into the tiny pores speckled across the rock. He peered into them as if he would eventually manage to see inside; idly, he wondered if all the pores were connected by little tunnels like an ant hill.

It was hardly noticeable at first, but he became aware of a faint vibration in his fingertips. It would have been mistakable for the run of his fingers along the jagged stone, except that he now held it still.

He maybe would have pulled back, tossed the stone down, dropped it. But he was alone, no one around to witness or judge what was happening. And he was curious, because this was the same feeling from the forest with Viktor. He wasn’t sure how, but again it was like he was absorbing something, bending back his cocoon of resistance to invite an outside energy in.

The shop door opened.

Yuuri whirled around to face Yakov standing in the doorway. His expression was his usual slightly irritated one, face permanently creased downward as if gravity pulled harder on his skin. But when his eyes fell to the lodestone Yuuri was holding, his expression managed to slacken with surprise.

Yuuri glanced down again, and inhaled quickly from his own shock. A faint glow was enveloping his hand and the stone – it accompanied the still-present vibrations.

But slowly the feeling dissipated and so did the glow, passing from his hands into the stone until it was like nothing had happened.

Yuuri looked back up at Yakov, unsure of what to say. Yakov met his eyes, and the hardness had returned to his expression, but his gaze was calculating.

“I don’t know what that was,” Yuuri spluttered, nerves twisting inside him that perhaps Yakov would now think he had been lying about his inexperience with magic.

But Yakov waved his hand at him. “I came to relieve you,” he said, resuming entering the shop and shrugging off his jacket.

Yuuri was stunned. Was he really just not going to mention it?

“Did you hear me?” he said sharply. “You can go.”

Yuuri glanced around, registering that Yuri wasn’t there. He had never been alone with Yakov before. He squeezed the lodestone in his hand; it was probably for the best that only Yakov had been the one to see what happened.

“Thanks,” he managed finally.

Yuuri returned the lodestone to its place on the shelf, grabbed his bag and jacket, and hurried from the shop. Yakov didn’t speak another word to him, but simply nodded sternly in a gesture of farewell.

Yuuri didn't slip on his jacket until the shop door had closed behind him. The air was cool outside, but the sunshine was warm to the touch; the combination of both energized Yuuri’s mind and helped lift away remaining traces of sluggishness, although concern over what had occurred minutes ago still lingered as a fresh weight over him.

Yuuri tugged down his sleeves and hugged his arms to himself. Usually he would have climbed the stairs to the house and gone inside, but he was simply too on edge to be home.

The grips of what Yuuri understood were once again slipping. He didn’t understand his influence on magic or its influence on himself. What role did he have in everything? He thought he had solved that problem. But was there something else? Did Yakov know something? Or did he simply not know and was therefore avoiding the subject?

Yuuri could have stayed in the shop and forced Yakov into conversation, but if he was being honest, the man intimidated him. And he wasn’t sure that a discussion would actually incur in a way that would help him.

He let these questions tumble around as he walked through the city. There was no place he intended to visit, but when he found himself near the café Phichit had taken him to, he decided to go inside.

Yuuri took a seat at a small table near the window.

Instead of coffee, he sipped tea, deciding it would function best to calm his nerves.

He quietly watched citizens walk past, finding that watching people mundanely stroll about was soothing.

Someone walking by dropped a stack of papers. They immediately began to scatter with the breeze, but the person waved their hands and papers were pulled toward them again, reforming a stack settled in their grasp. They walked on.

Yuuri sighed. Perhaps it didn’t matter that he could do… whatever it was. Not even the book that had written about resistance magic had detailed anything else useful. It was an unpleasant mystery that Yuuri wished he could forget about, but every time he started to, it forced its way into his life to remind him that something was different about him.

“May I sit here?” a voice rang out. It was nice enough, but it cut through the quiet murmur of the café with abruptness.

Yuuri looked up.

A woman was standing over him, holding a mug. Someone Yuuri hadn’t seen before, but that wasn’t unusual. She had long, dark hair made up in braids. She wasn’t very tall, although she radiated a confidence that made her appear large as she stood looking down at him, her eyes observing Yuuri with startling interest. The air seemed to pull tighter around them. The atmosphere reminded him of when the air was thick with magic when Yuri was training or Viktor was showing off.

“Oh, yeah, sure.”

Yuuri considered that maybe the rest of the tables were filled, but a quick look around told him that wasn’t the case.

“Thank you,” she answered. She pulled the chair across the table out and it scraped loudly across the floor. Yuuri tried not to wince. “I just feel too bad to take up a whole table when I’m alone.”

Oh, okay. That sort of made sense. Yuuri noted that it definitely seemed like something an extraverted person would do, at least. “Of course,” he answered as if he would have done the same, ever.

“It’s a nice day, is it not?” she asked, peering out the window. She quickly drew her eyes back in to watch Yuuri.

He fidgeted under her intense gaze. “It’s been raining non-stop since… a few days ago, yeah. So it’s nice to see some sun.” Hesitantly, he sipped his drink.

The woman took a drink of her own, eyes on Yuuri the entire time. Finally, she said, “My name is Venefica.”

Yuuri attempted a pleasant smile. “I’m Yuuri.”

She tossed her braids back and smiled; the smile seemed pleasant, but still tight-lipped. “It’s nice to meet you. What brings you here alone?”

He enveloped his mug in both his hands, staring down into the beverage. Yuuri wasn’t sure what to tell her, so he said, “Just came to think.”

In his peripheral vision, he saw her lean forward. “Ah, yes. Cafes are good for that.”

Drawing his eyes to her again, Yuuri noticed something odd. The air immediately around her shimmered slightly as if Yuuri was staring at heat rise off the street. He blinked, expecting it to go away, but it didn’t.  

Yuuri’s gaze fell back to the table, not wanting to blatantly stare.

“You’re not familiar,” she continued. “Are you new?”

“I’ve been in Clarusilva for about a month.”

She straightened up. “Oh! You’re who has been staying with Nikiforov and that old man?”

His stomach twisted. Something was wrong. But he found himself saying, “Yes, I do,” mostly because he couldn’t think of a lie soon enough.

Her eyes flickered down to his sketchbook. He had brought it out thinking he might draw, but inspiration had failed to strike.

“You draw?”

“Sometimes.”

“Can I see?”

Yuuri’s face heated. He didn’t even like letting people close to him see his art on most days, and definitely never a complete stranger. But something about this woman was commanding, and saying no seemed too awkward.  

He flipped the book open to the page he’d most recently been working on, the page where his pencil was acting as a bookmark. It was the sketch of the tree in the forest. “It’s not good, really,” Yuuri defended.

Venefica pulled it toward her, eyes panning over it with adept scrutiny. Then her brows furrowed and her lips tugged down with the pull of a scowl. “What is this?”

Confused, Yuuri told her, words sounding like a question without his intention: “A tree?”

She was gripping the edges of the sketchbook tightly. “What are these?” She demanded, fingers tracing across the space where Yuuri had begun to sketch the flowers. They were quick and impatient lines; unimpressive, in his opinion. And apparently they were indeed poorly done if she had to ask what they were.

“Flowers.”

Her expression darkened. “Where?”

With her focus exerted on his art and less on staring him down, he caught up with the situation. Someone had just sat down in front of him and begun questioning him and now his art. He didn’t know this person, and her layer of civility was so shaky that Yuuri felt he was justified in not trusting her.

“I made it up.”

Her head snapped up, eyes wide and suspicious. An awkward, forced smile cracked across her face. The rate at which her pleasantries were draining was truly alarming. “Oh, really?”

Yuuri opened his mouth to comply, but he noticed her mouth twitch in what seemed like a slight whisper. His skin prickled; it felt like a gigantic paintbrush with coarse bristles had brushed down his entire body.

And then she said, “Where was this tree?”

She had just asked that. The rest of the café seemed to have disappeared, the walls falling over and taking out the rest of the world with them. There was just Yuuri and the mysterious woman across from him, suspended in space, only her questions hanging between them. He tried to search her appearance for familiar traits or any details that would jar his mind into understanding who she was.

“I told you, I made it up,” Yuuri answered her question.

She sat back and observed him with a silent calculation that could rival Yakov’s.

And then Yuuri said something else, and he wasn’t sure what pushed him to it other than wonder at the strange situation. “Did you just try to use magic on me?”

Her expression hardened, her lips pursed.

It irritated Yuuri. It irritated him that this so-called _Venefica_  thought she could barge in on his personal space, demand his attention and answers to questions, and then shut down when she herself was questioned.

“Well?” he prompted, straightening up.

“What color is my hair?”

He gaped. What kind of question…?

“What do I look like?”

Yuuri inhaled, answered, “Black hair, in braids, you –“

But she abruptly stood. Her expression was wild, confused, and her eyes were darting around to look at the other customers. She even looked a little frightened.  

“What’s wrong?” Yuuri tried to ask. She cleared her throat, glancing between Yuuri, his sketchbook sprawled open in front of her, and the window next to them.

“Nothing,” she answered. “Nothing’s wrong. I’ve remembered somewhere I need to be.”

She started to walk away, but stopped beside Yuuri’s chair. “Sorry to leave so quickly.” Her voice was calm again. “I hope to see you around, Yuuri.”

And then she was gone.

Yuuri sat, perplexed and uneasy. She had left her mug, and eventually someone came and collected it.

There were plenty types of people in Clarusilva, and although everyone Yuuri had met seemed good, it was only a matter of time until he met someone odd. And unsettling. That woman was just one of those.

Yuuri’s thoughts didn’t do a lot to convince himself to relax, and he found himself sinking into tedious replays of their conversation in his head, searching for something to make sense of.

A loud rapping on the window pane next to him startled him.

On the other side, Phichit was waving wildly. He was accompanied by several others Yuuri recognized: Chris, Mila, Sara, JJ, and then one person that Yuuri hadn’t seen before.

Yuuri smiled and waved. He watched as Phichit turned to the group and spoke something. They nodded, and Yuuri had a feeling he knew what Phichit had asked them.

Sure enough, he watched as they all entered the café and walked toward him, Phichit excitedly leading the group.

“Yuuri!” he chortled. “Can we join you?”

Yuuri glanced at his two-person table. “Yeah, but –“

But then Chris and JJ were dragging other tables over to connect to Yuuri’s, and Mila and Sara were pulling chairs along.

“What are you doing here?” Phichit asked, pulling a chair next to Yuuri. Chris sat across from Yuuri, and JJ next to him. The boy Yuuri didn’t know sat on the other side of Phichit, and Mila and Sara made up each side of the end of the table.

“Oh, Yuuri! This is Leo,” Phichit piped up before Yuuri could answer his question. “He works with me at Celestino’s.”

Leo and Yuuri greeted each other, and then Chris said, “But honestly, why were you just sitting in here alone?”

Mila leaned forward to add, “And by that I think he means, where is Viktor?”

“Oh, uh – he is out teaching Yuri something.”

They all grinned among themselves. Yuuri stared among them, confused and wondering if he was missing something, but then it hit him: this was the first time he had seen this particular set of people since the victory party.

He felt his face flare with heat as he imagined the images of himself in everyone’s head that he didn’t have access to within his own mind. But then a waiter appeared at the end of the table and asked if anyone wanted something to drink or eat, to which everyone took turns giving their orders.

“Yuuri,” Phichit said, turning back to face him. “I was telling everyone about Hasetsu earlier today. I never bothered before because thinking about my hometown made me sad, but, well…” He tossed a hopeful glance at everyone, and then said, “We think after the war it would be awesome to take everyone on a trip there!”

“Oh,” Yuuri said with raised eyebrows. He sat back, nudging his glasses up his nose. “Well…” He thought about how uninteresting Hasetsu would be to everyone, but then he remembered Viktor and Yuri finding entertainment within its small buildings. And if the war was over, assuming they won, that would mean Hasetsu would be on its way back to normal.

He decided his opinion with a grin. “That sounds great.”

Phichit beamed, and everyone cheered.

“So Yuuri,” Chris said, leaning forward. “Has Viktor shared any secrets with you about what our next move is?”

“No,” Yuuri answered. Yuuri had spent time thinking about it in hypotheticals, but he wasn’t confident enough with his own ideas to suggest them.

“Next time you should be with some of us more,” JJ said. “You missed a lot of action!”

Mila snorted. “Like JJ pretending to throw a fallen tree at one of the patrol soldiers. I’m sure what Yuuri got to see was much cooler.”

Phichit sat back with a pout. “Man, I wish I could come out with you guys.”

Chris tilted his head thoughtfully. “You know, Phichit, I think you’d make a good wizard. Why don’t you see if Yakov has some room to take on another apprentice?”

But Phichit was shaking his head. “Nah it’s okay. I mostly just wish I could be out there documenting and photographing what’s going on.”

Everyone laughed, and the conversation moved onto other topics until an hour had passed. They all walked together to Yakov’s, bumbling and laughing under the influence of caffeine and sugar.

Yuuri basked in the glow of belonging, and his encounter with Venefica was pushed more and more into the back of his mind.

The mood, however, evaporated as soon as they got to Yakov’s. They entered laughing and talking, Yuuri mostly listening with keen interest as everyone recounted past stories of one another’s blunders and mistakes; but Yakov, Yuri, and Viktor sat around the kitchen table with pursed lips and downcast eyes.

When Viktor saw Yuuri was with the group, he tried a smile, but it was taut and strained. Yuuri smiled back warmly, but concern was already lapping at the edges of his mind. Something was amiss.

Everyone else started to quiet down, noticing too.

“What’s up?” JJ asked, striding ahead of the group and falling onto the couch. Everyone else hovered, too tense to sit.

“Did something happen?” Chris pressed.

Yuri silently glared at his clenched fists resting on the table.

“Yuri and I went out today with some others to charm the forest,” Viktor started.

“And?"

“There are charms on most of the trees now that aren’t ours. And they’re preventing us from putting our own on the trees.”

“That’s isn’t unusual, is it?” JJ pointed out. “They’ve done—“

“It’s not the same this time,” Yuri interrupted quickly. “It’s a spell causing the forest to die still. Slowly. But it’s strong because it isn’t self-sustaining. It’s – it has a source.”

Yakov cleared his throat. “To root such a widely-spread charm in something else takes… quite a lot of magic. And usually the source has to have its own magical quality. I’m… concerned as to what Vavara would have used.”

“I hope she didn’t hurt someone,” Sara commented.

Mila hissed. “This is going too far.”

“Something doesn’t add up,” Sara continued; she had moved to the bookshelves and was scanning through the titles.

“I think she’s just desperate,” Mila replied as she leaned against the couch. “She hasn’t always been that creative. She might have linked her charms to a sigil somewhere that she can continuously charge.”

“I don’t know,” Sara muttered. She pulled a book off the shelf and began flipping through the pages.

Leo spoke up, then. “Sigil magic is for single enactments. Those enactments can be repeated, but not continuous. So I don’t think that’s what she used.”

Yuuri caught Yakov’s eye. They held each other’s gaze for several seconds – but then Yakov’s dropped. A chill crept up Yuuri as he thought back to the incident in the shop earlier in the day. He knew Yakov was thinking of it, too.

“How do you know all that, Leo?” Phichit asked.

Leo shrugged. “I did a piece on sigil magic once and interviewed Michele and Emil for it.” He glanced around. “Speaking of which, where are they?”

A few eyes turned to Sara, but she still had her nose in a book.

Viktor stood up and came to stand closer to the group. “They were with us today. But we came back and Yakov made up a few potions and charms for them to try out. They’re back out there.”

The scrape of Yakov’s chair cut through the conversation, and he rose. “Nothing I gave them will work,” he started, and his voice was tired and worn, “but how they get rejected will help us narrow down what is going on.”

And then the conversation transitioned to the specific potions and items that Yakov had given Emil and Michele. Yuuri collected his thought on what he knew.

They had carried out a successful hit against Clarufretus; this was their retaliation. Would this be it, or was there something more to come?

Phichit couldn’t get any more information from Seung-Gil or Guang Hong, and they now had a time limit on saving the kingdom, it seemed.

The last information Phichit had retrieved from his forest trips had been that Clarufretus was working on planes. Yuuri had never seen one before, and the thought of a piece of machinery soaring through the air was frightening. If Clarufretus was expending energy right now to develop such things, they had a plan. And Yuuri thought of the guns he had seen held by some of the soldiers when he had been with Yuri.

Feeling distant, Yuuri stood back and watched everyone debate over the magic Vavara was using and what they could all contribute to combat it. But no one discussed how much more industrialized Clarufretus was. Was it because the people of Clarusilva thought it was silly that their sister city had turned its back on nature?

Just because they had didn’t make it meaningless, though. Yuuri trusted the people around him. He trusted what Clarusilva stood for.

But for the first time, he wasn’t sure everyone was seeing the bigger picture. _Maybe_ magic could withstand the effects of iron and smoke and technology, but – when Yuuri imagined a mechanized weapon tearing through the clouds, or a bullet slicing the air, he couldn’t imagine how much magic it would take to provide the equivalent comfort and security he felt enveloped in Yuri’s shield to hide them from sight.

Maybe it was time he brought out what he had been studying and working on, despite some of it being unfinished.

He slipped from the room into the hall. No one followed or even commented on his disappearance, probably assuming he was accepting he didn’t have a place in a conversation deep in the throes of magic.

In his room, he gathered the iron sheet, the smaller pieces of metal, and the books and maps that Phichit had collected for him.

Something solid and thick was settling in his chest: it was a familiar pressure, now; one that reminded him that he was still an outsider among these people. Still, despite what Viktor cleverly claimed, a bottom feeder.

Phichit and Viktor simultaneously were the first to notice Yuuri hauling everything into the room.

They both stepped forward in question, the others still chatting.

“Is this what you have been working on?” Phichit asked, eyes lit with excitement.

Viktor appeared more bewildered, but his eyes brightly scanned everything Yuuri held. “Yuuri, you’ve been working on something?”

Yuuri hurried past them to the kitchen table. “Y-yeah, it’s –“ he wanted to say it was _nothing_ , but it wasn’t.

Yuri was still curled up in one of the chairs, chewing on the nails of one of his hands. He hadn’t taken part in many of the conversations during the evening, but now he watched curiously as Yuuri’s stack of books thumped onto the table. Some scrolls of paper rolled out from his grasp.

“Oh, these are those old maps,” Phichit commented, unrolling one. Viktor hovered patiently.

When the metal sheet was placed into the center of the table, Phichit gasped. Yuri leaned forward, eyes narrowing as he quickly absorbed what had been painted onto its surface.

“You’ve been busy, Katsudon,” he said, an impressed smirk beginning to break across his face.

The others noticed the commotion now and were beginning to cross the room to the table.

Yuuri opened the books to relevant pages and unscrolled the maps so he could explain everything.

“So what is this?” JJ asked.

Yuuri took a deep breath. First, he looked at Viktor.

“Do you remember when I asked to see an aerial view of the forest?” he asked.

“Of course,” Viktor answered. “And then… we couldn’t do it.”

Yuuri nodded. “So with Phichit’s help, I found paintings of the forest in really old books. And with the one map you guy use, and a lot of older, retired maps, I was able to hopefully recreate the forest here.” He gestured to the iron sheet.

He had given it a white base, let it dry, and then had painted Claru Forest across is. He had tried to encompass the edge of the ocean and the beginnings of both Clarusilva and Clarufretus to make sure his creation expanded across more space than the original map that was being used for plans.

“I’ve compared so many paintings and written descriptions and old maps,” Yuuri declared. His face was hot as he glanced at everyone silently observing his work.

“But, um, the unique part is this.”

He took one of the small pieces of metal, some of which he had painted letters on. He hadn’t finished deciding how to label them, but that didn’t matter.

He handled one with a V and placed it on the painted map, and then lifted the whole map up. It stayed magnetized to it, of course.

“I just thought it would help us to plan things out if we could, you know, do this.” He stuck another piece of metal to the map. For effect, he slid them around a bit, praying his paint wouldn’t chip off. It didn’t.

“OH Yuuri!” Phichit exclaimed with clasped hand. “This is so cute!”

“I love it,” added Mila, and the others joined in, excitedly exclaiming their agreement that this was, indeed, useful.

Yuuri was glad to create something to help, and it wasn’t until Mila and Chris started making jokes by sliding around the C and M pieces that Yuuri decided to deliver his other suggestion before things got too off-topic. This was something he had only thought of during the past hour; he hoped he could express his concerns coherently.

He unrolled one of the maps that Phichit had given him of Clarusilva. It showed only the city. He hadn’t needed it a lot until now.

Yuuri explained his concerns over Clarufretus’s technology and, finally, that maybe they should consider finding places within the city for civilians to hide if there was ever an attack.

“Like bomb shelters or something?” Phichit inquired.

Yuuri adjusted his glasses and ran his hands through his hair. It sounded dramatic when put that way. “I guess so.”

“I think any sort of precaution can’t hurt,” Sara spoke up.

“But do we actually think they would carry out a violent attack?” JJ argued. “It would take a lot of time to do this.”

“Not necessary,” interrupted Yakov, stepping forward. “Some of the buildings have deep basements. If we just distributed information to citizens on which buildings those are – if there was an emergency like Yuuri is concerned with, at least people could know the best place to go.”

“Would the shop’s basement work, Yakov?” Viktor asked.

Yakov nodded sternly, face stony as he studied the map. “I wish I could remember many more.” He placed a finger on the paper. “This one, too. And this one here, but I think we would have to do a door-to-door survey.”

“Let me mark those ones down!” Phichit piped up, running to get a quill.

Leo cleared his throat. “Phichit and I could handle the surveying, actually.”

“Great!” Viktor said. “This is a great precautionary step to take now that we can’t get any information from Seung-Gil and Guang Hong.”

Yuuri relaxed and sighed so heavily that he wondered if he had held his breath the entire time. At least now, if worse came to worst, people could be safe.

 

* * *

 

 

Sometimes trying your best isn’t good enough.

But when Yuuri entered the living room the next day, warm sun glowing into the room, he really felt like his best had been just the right amount lately. Even when he didn’t understand his own magical abilities, when he put effort into things like Yura’s Fury or the iron map, everything had gone well. His quiet life working the pier seemed so distant now.

He had woken unusually early. The room was empty.

He stretched, yawned. Yuuri had slept well the night before, the afterglow of the evening before lulling him into an easy sleep.

Despite the worrying news, the evening had ended on a positive note. Phichit had stayed behind to hang out a while, and he, Viktor, and Yuuri had opened a bottle of wine and talked frivolously while Yuri threw banter their way.

Yuuri sifted through the kitchen, considering what he could make for breakfast.

He felt lighter on his feet, an unusual blanket of confidence cushioning his thoughts. He wanted to make everyone something really great to eat.

Someone knocked at the door; Yuuri froze. Looked around himself.

Silently he begged for someone to have noticed, but no one stirred, not even Makkachin from Viktor’s room.

Yuuri straightened up. Mostly likely, it was Phichit or Chris or someone he knew. He strolled over to the door, mentally rehearsing his greeting if it did happen to be a stranger.

He unlocked the door and confidently swung it open, the same professional smile he used in Yakov’s shop plastered on his face.

Yuuri had only a second to throw himself out of the way.

A black, roiling, smoky mass hurtled into the room, nearly colliding Yuuri; with a yelp, Yuuri was on the floor, rolling over to quickly jump back to his feet.

The smoke tore through the room and under the kitchen table before fumigating back into the living area and huddling under the table there. Then it lifted and knocked it over with a crash.

Yuuri gaped, but it was heading toward him again and he lurched out of the way. The door was still open, and Yuuri hoped maybe the entity would fly back out it. He whirled around to watch it as he continued backing up. It drifted outside a moment, hesitantly, as if it were looking for something; if it was, it didn’t find it, and it shot back inside.

 _It can’t hurt me._ The realization clicked with relief! As long as whatever this was didn’t touch anyone else, nothing bad could happen. He just had to keep it focused on him.

The smoke drew close to him, ominous and churning, and Yuuri heard a low growl emanating from it like the quiet whir of a machine.

It swayed from side-to-side, sizing him up. Yuuri took deep breaths, tense and waiting to stand against its blow against him. But it didn’t attack. What was it waiting for?  

A door from the hall slammed open, and Yuuri heard Viktor shout, “What’s going on?”

He came into view at the edge of the hall. The smoke twisted in his direction, and Yuuri’s heart plummeted as he was slammed with realization: it wasn’t attacking Yuuri because it wasn’t here for him.

Yuuri didn’t give Viktor time to take in the sight; he lunged forward, yelling, “Viktor, hide from it!” as he placed himself in the path of the smoke.

“Yuuri, what’s happening?” Viktor shouted. Yuuri held his arms up toward the smoke defensively; for a long, drawn out moment, it didn’t move beyond twisting within itself. Yuuri held his breath, noticing Viktor’s own was held behind him as he finally saw what was happening.

It raced forward – Yuuri flinched back, eyes closed, bracing himself.

And then he was shoved to the side, surprise mingling with fright locking his muscles and causing his feet to fail him, and he hit the floor. Distantly Viktor yelled something, and Yuuri scrambled to a sitting position and twisted around to see no more smoke monster, but only Viktor, crumpled to the floor and clutching his chest.

The world blurred at its edges.

Yuri’s bedroom door flew open with his yell of anger at the noise, but sound was muffled, too, and Yuuri couldn't hear what was being yelled. He only saw Viktor’s face scrunched up in pain. Yakov was suddenly there, but he came from behind. He must have been downstairs in his shop, Yuuri’s mind unhelpfully concluded.

They were both yelling unintelligible things and a light flashed as something shot from Yuri’s hands. Makkachin was nearby, whining loudly. 

Yakov was rummaging through the shelves next to Yuuri, knocking items over in his scramble.

Viktor had taken the fall for Yuuri – but he hadn’t needed to! Yuuri would have been _fine_.

 _Magic can’t kill,_  Viktor’s own words echoed, and Yuuri held onto them, but his grasp was loose and slippery because magic _could_ and Viktor just hadn’t seen it happen before, but all these people hadn’t seen a lot of things despite their brilliance.

The room swayed sickeningly.

Yuuri.

His name was coming from somewhere.

Yuuri.

 _“Yuuri_!”

Yuri was yelling at him, shaking him by the shoulders. “Snap out of it!”

His senses flooded back, heart beating against the pale, clamminess of his skin.

“Oh my god,” he whispered, face crumpling. “Viktor!” Yuuri scrambled past Yuri, and Viktor was still laying there, breathing deep, ragged breaths, arms still wrapped around himself tightly, forehead sheening with sweat.

“Yuuri!” Yuri grabbed him by the shoulders again. “He will be all right, it’s just a temporary curse. What happened?”

“This magic is used to temporarily disable wizards.” Yakov heavily added from overhead. He leaned down and started sprinkling some sort of powder across Viktor.

Yuuri watched, horrified despite the sentiment that he would be okay. Viktor was hurt.

Viktor tried to open his eyes, and he opened his mouth like he was going to speak, but his entire body clenched in pain and he seized up again with a mangled yelp. 

He was _suffering_.

Yuri continued. “We need to know what happened, if you saw anyone, because –“

“Guys!” yelled a voice from behind Yuuri. He watched as Yuri’s eyes darted to the door, blanking in confusion.

Yuuri turned around. Phichit stood there with a man he didn’t recognize. He had dark hair and thick brows. They creased significantly when he took in the scene before him.

Phichit’s hands flew to his mouth to conceal a gasp. “Oh no!”

“We are too late,” the man said.

Phichit shook his head vehemently. “No! I – they’re coming,” he stammered out.

“What?!” Yuri demanded.

There was a roar overhead, over the roof, and it shook the building down to its foundation. It was joined by more monstrous screams high in the sky, and through the open door shouts began to pour into the room.

Something like an explosion sounded far away. More screams.

_Oh._

They were under attack.

And Viktor, Clarusilva’s leader through this war, had been taken down. And it was Yuuri’s fault.

“Yuuri, are you okay?” Phichit was asking, stepping forth hesitantly. The man next to him grabbed his elbow, pulling him back. Phichit shot him a questioning look.

_He had to make up for this._

Yuuri jumped to his feet. Yuri exclaimed something, the others too, but Yuuri was already running through the room, out the door. The air outside slapped against his cheeks more sharply than he expected, and he realized then that he’d been crying. Yuuri wiped his tears away and shoved his glasses up as he hurried down the stairs before he could be stopped – or change his mind – because this city needed him now. Because this is exactly what he'd predicted might happen, but it was too late. They hadn't been able to warn anyone. 

Something cried out overhead, and it was like the sound that had shook the house earlier, loud and rumbling. Yuuri looked up, gasped.

One of the planes.

It tore through the sky like a giant bird, teetering on the air, kept afloat by some impossible force that wasn’t magic. It crossed over toward the sea, and Yuuri froze to watch. He couldn’t help it. When it was far beyond the shore, it dropped something into the ocean.

A chill ran through him. They were doing something to the water. His heart panged for Hasetsu. 

“What is going on?” asked a voice.

Yuuri turned. A woman had spoken. She clutched the hand of a child, but they both looked equally scared. Several other people were standing around, eyes stuck on the horizon that was hardly visible through the buildings and streets. But the plane flew high, that miracle of engineering and intellect, soaring above and capturing everyone’s amazement, trapping them into the dangerous open space of the streets.

And there hadn’t even been time to create maps of where it was safe to go in Clarusilva.

Yuuri could remember the few that Yakov had mentioned; Phichit had marked them, and Yuuri had idly analyzed them in an attempt to test his knowledge of the city’s layout and if it had improved much.

Yakov’s was safe, he knew. 

“I need you to follow me,” Yuuri said. Eyes slowly fell onto him, boring into him with fear and confusion and mistrust that there wasn’t time to ease. But in their shock and horror, they said nothing.

“Please, there’s a basement that will be safe to go into,” he tried again, voice growing louder. He swallowed hard, needing to fight down his panic. Would Viktor and the others make it down there?

Viktor…

“Where?” said a man. The others nodded to show their acquiescence.

Yuuri didn’t actually know where the entrance was, but since he hadn’t seen a way downward in the shop, he assumed it must be on the outside.

He led the group around to the back of the building, and sure enough, there was a wooden door built into the ground. He tugged it open.

As the first woman with her child began to climb inside the dark room below, Yuuri said, “I have to go.” And then he took off – there were many more people that would be wandering the streets. There was only a small section of the city he knew of safe basements for, but some were better than none.

Another plane shot through the air. It flew faster than anything Yuuri had ever seen, and the only rival to its speed was the way magic could cross an ocean in an instant.

But _this_  was over land and buildings and people and forests and seas – all of it.

Something fell from the plane. He couldn’t see what, but the plane soared higher into the air as soon as it released the object. Seconds later there was a blast of red and orange in the distance. But Yuuri couldn’t see anything else.

But this was bad. Very bad.

“Please, everyone!” he shouted to people crying in the streets, leaving their houses and shops to see what was happening. They had all gone to work, gone out for a stroll to shop or visit friends, living their lives, unaware their lives were about to turn upside down – the notion panged at Yuuri, tore at him, made his eyes water as he spoke, “Um, just, there’s a safe place you need to go. Hold on.”

He ran to the door of the shop he recognized from the list that Yakov had made, throwing it open. Several customers appeared to have taken shelter inside.

“What’s going on out there?” an older, gruff woman demanded. “And close that door!”

“You need to get to the basement! More people are going to come in that need to go down there too, okay? Please!”

Before she could argue or question him, he turned back to the people outside and told them to go into the shop, and then continued down the street.

Yuuri’s sides cramped and his lungs were cold and sore. The more he yelled and cried and begged for people to listen to his instructions, the hoarser his voice became, and he swore his throat would soon bleed.

He passed a building on fire.

People ran through the streets yelling, and he couldn’t get the attention of all of them, and every person he let run free ate away at the guilt inside of him for not being fast or leaderly enough.

What if he had been hit by that smoke monster, and not Viktor? What would Viktor be doing right now?

Somewhere there was another explosion.

Yuuri kept running toward the last place he knew to have a basement deep enough to shelter everyone from the ferocious blasts being dropped by the planes of Clarufretus.

There were people in the streets that weren’t manic and fleeing; some were throwing out rays of wispy light and magic into the air; others placed themselves around houses and were chanting words and tossing objects toward the buildings, and Yuuri didn’t know what any of it was for exactly. But he couldn’t deny it felt inferior to the power of machines and bombs.

Yuuri saw it now, in the back of his mind as he wore himself thin with exertion and desperation; he saw the limitations of Clarusilva, their weakness: magic couldn’t sustain everything. Magic and nature were strong and beautiful and mysterious, but not with humans striving to do things like fly and explode the world with the mere touch of a button.

But then this destruction reeked and filled the air with smoke and fear.

Neither side saw the benefit of the other’s way of life.

_God! What would Viktor do?_

Yuuri noticed someone leaning out a window from the second story of a building. He skidded to a halt.

It was a young woman, probably Yuuri’s age. They locked eyes. And for a moment, there was harmony – through the space between them passed the same desire for survival, for peace, for understanding – the emotional connection was so raw and real and mutual that it clutched at Yuuri’s heart, seized his aching chest. And then her eyes cast to the sky, watching what was probably the planes soaring in the distance.

“Come down here!” Yuuri shouted, voice mangled and scratching. “I can take you somewhere safe!”

The girl stared back at him. Yuuri feared she would argue; he didn’t have time to explain, hadn’t had time to explain anything to anyone. But then she nodded. “Let me get my family!” she called back before disappearing from the window.

Yuuri fidgeted, waited. Looked around for someone else to attempt saving, although no one being around was likely a good thing. Hopefully, well-structured basement or not, everyone’s shelters held up to some extent.

One of the many distant roars was suddenly blazing overhead. Yuuri stared again, for the millionth time, up at the mechanical body in the sky. Something dropped from it.

Plummeted.

It was black and small and it cut downward through space.

As if it had been its target all along, the object cut straight into the roof of the building before him. The building with the girl and – her family, according to her.

Yuuri had seen those flashes of red and orange many times now. And there it was again.

Blasting, bright, erupting into flames – the building was engulfed, shrouded into a fire that licked hungrily at its walls. Windows blew inward, the sound of shattering glass merging with the crackle of fire.

The heat was fierce, and Yuuri was already sweating and his skin was already burning hot, but now he felt strangely cold. For the second time that day, darkness bit at the edges of his vision, threatening to steal away sight.

He might have liked that better than watching the building burn.

Some small, pathetic part of his mind pushed the notion that he just needed to patiently wait for the girl and her family to emerge. Then he could show them the way to safety. He wasn’t too late.

A section of roof fell in.

Yuuri thought for a second that he could make it inside; the door was still in-tact, there was a chance that girl was just on the other side…

A hand wrapped around Yuuri’s wrist.

It tugged on him, said something Yuuri didn’t quite hear. He turned to look: it was a boy, a bit younger than him. Vaguely familiar.

But Yuuri’s glasses were covered in a thin veneer of dirt and ash. He couldn’t see well now.

“You need to get out of here,” the person demanded, voice commanding but sullen. His eyes drifted past Yuuri to the building that burnt, and Yuuri knew he’d seen it happen too.

Yuuri shook his head. “I – need to find someone in that house.” Even as he said it, even before the boy’s eyes turned sad and hollow, he knew the words were futile.

The boy’s eyes looked behind Yuuri again, and they widened in alarm. He let go of Yuuri and pulled something from his pocket, tossing it immediately to the ground before them.

A cloud of blue smoke erupted. The air felt cooler, the heat of the fire blocked out.

“Follow me,” he said. “It’s getting more and more dangerous out here.”

Yuuri winced because that was exactly the problem. There was more to be done. But he knew he wasn’t immune to the weapons the planes were dropping. He wasn't immune to fire.

The sound of roaring began to grow close again, and the boy tried to hurry Yuuri along. “Now!” he demanded.

Yuuri followed him.

Aimlessly.

They made their way to a nearby shop, Yuuri dragging his feet now, no longer able to will himself to power against his aching sides. The stranger cast wary, impatient glances back at him every several steps as if he were making sure Yuuri was still there.

It was dark inside the shop, and the boy took Yuuri to a door at the far end that opened to reveal a set of stairs. At the bottom was a room with shelves that contained stacks of jars, some filled with what seemed to be food, a few with liquid – hopefully water, Yuuri suddenly thought – inside them.

Some other people were huddled in the far corners of the room.

There was a single candle lit and sitting in the center of the floor. Yuuri wondered why this was necessary until the basement doors were shut, and the place was submerged in an inky dark that would have been suffocating if not for the light of the candle.

Yuuri dragged himself to a place on the stony floor that was away from everyone else and slumped down.

Now that there was slowness to the seconds passing, Yuuri could take in how filthy he felt, sweat and dirt caked to his clothes and skin, and how tired he was, how – not okay he was, blasts of light flashing behind his eyelids every time he blinked.

Shouldn’t he be crying? Horrified?

But he was numb.

“What’s your name?” the stranger asked Yuuri as he sat down next to him. He remained sitting with an upright posture, staring ahead.

Above them, far above, something boomed, and dirt sprinkled from the basement ceiling.

Yuuri wondered if the basement they were in would have ended up on their official list. If they had gotten the time to make one.

“Yuuri,” he said.

“Oh,” the boy responded, hesitating. “I thought you were familiar. You’re the new guy at Yakov’s.”

Yuuri sighed. Yeah. That was him. “And you’re?” he asked, tone lifeless.

“Otabek.”

Yuuri nodded. “Well, thanks for… bringing me here.”

Otabek didn’t answer. Yuuri brought his knees to his chest, wrapped his arms around them, and buried his face, willing with all his might to force away the images burned into his mind.


	11. Lay Down Your Arms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When you're at the end of the road  
> And you lost all sense of control  
> And your thoughts have taken their toll  
> When your mind breaks the spirit of your soul  
> Your faith walks on broken glass  
> And the hangover doesn't pass  
> Nothing's ever built to last  
> You're in ruins  
> [21 Guns](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=blKZTwmNrcM), Green Day (Broadway Version)

Hours wore on.

And eventually, gradually, the sounds of explosions and planes faded away. But the silence that came after was something to still roar in their ears, and it felt equally as deadly.

Yuuri remained in the basement with everyone. They waited until it was dark outside before taking turns using the small bathroom upstairs.

No one talked. Yuuri drifted in and out of a sleep that consisted of nodding off until his head slumped forward abruptly and he snapped awake. 

Otabek finally broke the silence between them when he asked, “Will you be okay staying here the night?” Yuuri thought of Viktor and everyone else he had grown to care about and he felt the distance between them with a guilty punch to his stomach.

He knew they would know to get to the basement underneath the shop. But Viktor would slow them down, surely, and therefore Yuuri couldn’t be completely sure they’d made it.

But if there was still a chance circumstances were dangerous – especially now that dark was falling, there wasn’t a lot he could do until morning. It would be then that their world could start to heal.

Yuuri cleared his throat, voice stiff from so much yelling followed by hours of not being used. “Yeah, that’s fine.”

Otabek gave a stiff nod.

Minutes later someone started humming. Yuuri’s eyes were closed and he still leaned against the wall behind him, but his mind immediately latched onto the hum. Anything but explosions that still pounded through his head or the haunting silence. 

Perhaps everyone else felt the same way, because no one spoke to interrupt the person. It sounded like it was coming from a younger boy.

Eventually the humming broke into a soft-sung song. Eyes still closed, Yuuri let the nondescript words flow into his mind. He breathed deeply, felt the floor beneath him, the wall behind him. He imagined the stones of the wall jutting out and forming around him, keeping him in place and safe from the hapless world above.   

When the boy’s singing grew a little louder, Yuuri was pulled back into focus, and he opened his eyes to finally see who their entertainer was.

A small boy sat near the middle of the room. In the dim candlelight, Yuuri couldn’t make out strong details of his appearance, but his hair was a deep blonde, and his eyes were wide and attentive, staring at the ceiling as he sung. His knees were curled to his chest and he swayed gently with the words.

The lines were poetic and their meaning ambiguous, but it felt hopeful; the melody was a bittersweet cushion between the basement and thoughts of pending tragedies to be uncovered.

Glancing around, Yuuri saw several others had laid down and were maybe even sleeping.

Yuuri risked a glance at Otabek; his eyes were open and he watched the singing boy quietly.

At the end of the song, the boy heaved a great sigh and stopped. 

Yuuri braced himself, but the drop back into silence was gentle. The boy’s voice still seemed to ring against the walls of the basement, encompassing them all in its echo.

“Are you Yuuri Katsuki?”

The question was whispered but it traveled like a branch snapping in the forest. Yuuri froze.

The singing boy was looking in his direction, waiting expectantly. Yuuri blinked.

“Um, yes,” he whispered back.

The boy’s eyes widened, and he carefully dragged himself closer to where Yuuri and Otabek were.

“I heard about your part in the battle with the storm and all,” he whispered. “I thought you were amazing.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Yuuri said flatly and perhaps harshly. That battle had been a victory. But today had not been, and Yura’s Fury, despite how magnificent, was cast in the shadow of today’s destruction.

The boy shook his head adamantly. “No, I heard about how it was your idea and everything! I wish I was that smart.”

Yuuri wanted to laugh at that, but Otabek interjected.

“Wait, you were actually there?”

“I was.” Yuuri threw a glance around, hoping they weren’t disturbing anyone.

“What was it like?” Otabek asked. His expression was composed and as stern as it had been all night, but his eyes lit up.

“Yeah, tell us!” the boy joined in. “But first! I’m Minami. It’s nice to meet you both.”

Otabek introduced himself. And then Yuuri dredged up his remaining energy to tell the tale of Yura’s Fury and how the storm had been conjured, what the world was like from inside it, what it felt like. How incredible it was because Yuri was an unstoppable and undeniable force.

The other two listened intently, seeming truly captivated by every word Yuuri spoke, and he quickly realized the distraction of story-telling was welcomed. Perhaps his words flowed to others in the basement and washed away their troubled thoughts as Minami’s song had.  

So for all their sakes, he embellished the details, described them down to the individual droplets of saltwater that had fallen from the sky.

“Wow,” Minami commented breathlessly at the end of the tale.

Otabek nodded to agree with the remark. “Yuri is known for being prodigious, but that’s… amazing.”

Yuuri agreed, but couldn’t help but adding, “Although it made them angry, I guess.”

“This was a long time coming,” Otabek said, voice quickly losing the glimmer of cheer.

Minami huffed a sigh and pulled his crossed legs into himself tightly. “One day I’ll be a wizard, too. And hopefully the war will be over then and I can make sure nothing like this ever happens again!”

Yuuri smiled weakly at that; Minami’s optimism seemed to be a continuously flowing fountain. It was ironic to think that when he’d woken up this morning, he had shared similar feelings of hope.

“It’s going to be okay,” Minami continued, “with people like Viktor and Yuri and you.” He looked at Yuuri.

Yuuri resisted the temptation to scowl; Minami was young and didn’t know how awful their situation was now, how extremely unprepared any of them were to deal with the newly unveiled threat Clarufretus presented. Minami hadn’t seen what Yuuri had seen unfold above them.

But Yuuri said nothing.

Minami tilted his head thoughtfully to observe Yuuri as he waited for a response, but when none came, he simply shrugged.

“I guess I will try to sleep,” he said, looking around the basement. For the first time his expression was dejected, the cement basement floors apparently not any more appealing to him than anyone else.

Yuuri tried to sleep, consigning himself to curling up on the ground. It was only because of his strenuous mental and physical exertion that he was able to achieve a drifting state at all. But it wasn’t pleasant. Every time his mind began to slip into the quiet dark, he saw flashes of light. Red. Orange. Yellow. Bright and blinding. His heart thumped each time and he was thrown awake, an explosion that hadn’t happened ringing in his ears.

Otabek threw a wary glance at him when this happened a third time over the course of an immeasurable amount of time. It could have been hours, it could have been minutes. But Otabek he said nothing; Yuuri wondered if he was bothering to sleep at all. He hadn’t moved from sitting against the wall.

Yuuri took a deep breath and closed his eyes to try again.

_Rap – rap – rap_

Opening his eyes narrowly, Yuuri saw that Otabek was gently tapping his fingers against the ground.

He closed them again and listened to the sound. It was welcomed in the same manner Minami’s singing had been; a distraction, something to latch onto. The taps sounded out a gentle rhythm Yuuri wasn’t familiar with. What kind of song was it that Otabek had in his head? What type of music do you turn to in the face of madness? Of not knowing what you’ll wake up to tomorrow – who, of all those you know, is dead or alive?

_Tap – tap – tap_

Yuuri’s thoughts weren’t peaceful. But he managed to slip into a murky sleep without the quake of bombs and flames of fire.

 

* * *

 

 

No one was sure of the time; the only way the group found out it was morning was when someone tired of the dark, cold basement climbed out to check. Moments later they were poking their head back down to declare that, indeed, the sun was rising.

Yuuri’s entire body was sore, and the side he’d been laying on the entire night hurt worse than the other.

Otabek was still sitting against the wall. Maybe sleeping against the wall would have been more comfortable? Yuuri wondered. But as Otabek stood, it was obvious he was just as stiff, and he spent excessive time bending his back and stretching his limbs.

“Would you mind if I walked you home?” Otabek asked as Yuuri stretched his own muscles.

“I think I’m okay to go alone.”

Otabek ran a hand through his hair; his eyes darted around as he struggled to voice something until he sighed. “Actually, I want to meet Yuri Plisetsky.”

“Oh?”

“It’s just that I want to thank him for what he did. In person. I meant to at the victory party, but he was surrounded by people the entire time.”

Ah, the victory party. That must be why Otabek was vaguely familiar. 

He recalled the groups of girls that had stalked Yuuri throughout the night and wondered if Otabek knew that an interruption from him would have been appreciated by Yuri.

“Sure,” Yuuri said. With a sinking stomach, the image of Yuri crouched next to a struck-down Viktor emerged. He didn’t even know how everyone was; maybe it was better he wouldn’t be alone.

With his mind occupied by returning to Yakov’s, Yuuri hadn’t thought to prepare himself for his return above ground. He didn’t consider what he would see as he followed Otabek out of the store - eyes to the ground - until sunlight hit him and he blearily looked up.

Yuuri wasn’t prepared.

The streets were filled with rubble and charred pieces of wood. Buildings that hadn’t burned were covered in ash, although many in the vicinity had at least gaping gaps, like something with a huge maw had taken a bite out of the structures. Small fires still ate away at places that had long fallen in.

Ash still drifted through the air like dust.

Neither Yuuri nor Otabek managed to comment. They stood outside the store they had taken refuge in and stared silently. Some of the others had stopped, too, though many had stiffly walked off down the streets. A few other people that hadn’t been a part of their group were outside as well. A person called out a name, voice hoarse and broken.

Their walk back felt like a dreamscape. Mere hours had turned the city of Clarusilva inside out, leaving onto the skeletal frame of itself to walk through. The ash created a layer of gray across everything, erasing color. The morning pulled the sun higher into the sky, a mockery to everything. It even felt warmer than the previous day. The universe seemed to be making a statement that Clarusilva shouldn’t be there. That they should accept failure.

The city had been so hopeful for them – so proud of what everyone had accomplished. What would they think now?

A lump rose to Yuuri’s throat as they neared Yakov’s place.

There was a crowd outside of it of maybe twenty or thirty people. From a distance, the only detail Yuuri could decipher was that they were agitated and shouting.

He and Otabek passed concerned glances between one another.

As they neared, the shouts became coherent.

_“Isn’t it your job to predict this sort of thing?”_

_“How could this happen?”_

_“How do we even retaliate?”_

Yuuri felt sick. He didn’t blame anyone for being afraid, but this wasn’t anyone’s fault besides Clarufretus.

“I promise if you just give us time-“ Yuuri heard the familiar voice, and the relief was dizzying. He bounced on his toes to try seeing over the heads of the crowd to spot Viktor. He glanced Yakov first, his face grimmer than ever.

The door to Yakov’s shop opened and Chris slipped out. He carried a box.

When his eyes landed on Yuuri, his jaw dropped. “OH my gosh, Yuuri!”

Chris stuck his head back into the door and yelled something to someone, and Yuuri heard his name being shouted several times over at once.

Phichit practically flew from the crowd and collided with Yuuri in strangling hug. “We were so worried about you! How the hell could you just run off like that?”

“I – I’m sorry,” Yuuri stammered. But his eyes were peering over his friend’s shoulder.

He noticed Yuri emerge from the shop, scowling heavily. He shook his head once he set eyes on Yuuri.

Phichit was still rambling about how worried everyone had been, but the people surrounding them grew quieter. Yuuri didn’t understand why until Viktor pushed himself through. He locked eyes with Yuuri.

“Viktor tried to come after you as soon as he could move again,” Phichit whispered to Yuuri as he stepped aside. “Which was long after you left…”

Yuuri felt hollow inside. Viktor’s expression was unreadable, but Yuuri figured he must be angry with him.

Words caught in the spider’s web of his throat; he could do nothing but wait for Viktor to speak.

Finally, Viktor shook his head. Yuuri’s heart cracked – he WAS mad.

Behind Viktor, the crowd had turned on Yakov, paying them little attention.

“You left,” Viktor stated.

The accusation struck a nerve and opened Yuuri’s ability to speak again. “You let that thing attack you.”

“It was going to attack YOU, that’s why.”

“Viktor,” Yuuri pleaded, “it couldn’t hurt me.”

Viktor stared, expression drained and helpless before saying quietly, “I wasn’t willing to risk that.”

Yuuri sighed in frustration; Viktor had been reckless and that was his final conclusion on the matter. Looking at Viktor now, standing before him and stubbornly insisting that Yuuri had done something wrong brought something to the forefront of Yuuri’s mind: Viktor was… human. He wasn’t perfect; not in the way that Yuuri had idolized him before. Viktor was subject to mistakes, just like Yuuri was. It didn’t matter that Viktor was some great, influential wizard - Viktor’s judgement wasn’t always the best. Which was completely normal – but Yuuri didn’t realize he wasn’t viewing Viktor realistically until this moment.

Suddenly the person before him was more real than they had ever been.

And then as if to accompany the realization, just a little, Viktor broke.

His hands shoved themselves through his hair, and he shielded his face from Yuuri as he stared at the ground and spoke, “I’m just so relieved you’re okay. _I was so worried_.”

Yuuri’s arms were wrapped around Viktor before he knew what he was doing. Underneath him Viktor stiffened, but Yuuri wasn’t bothered beyond hugging him tighter. It was the first time he had initiated any sort of contact with Viktor, wasn’t it? But Yuuri understood now; the lens of perfection that Yuuri had been idolizing Viktor through fallen away at last. Viktor was, well – he was Viktor.

Finally Viktor’s arms were around Yuuri, and he relaxed and locked their embrace. His chin rest gently on top of Yuuri’s head.

“I’m sorry I worried you,” Yuuri said. “I left to help people find safety. But I shouldn’t have left without saying what I intended to do.”

He pulled back slightly and so did Viktor, and Yuuri added sternly, “But you have to trust me with magic from now on, okay? I don’t know all the things you do, but I know when it can’t hurt me.”

Viktor looked halfway to a sigh, still wanting to protest, but he nodded. “All right, Yuuri. All right.”

Yuuri sighed and the remaining weight on his chest lifted away.

Everyone else melted back into his awareness, and Yuuri turned around until he saw Otabek standing by, hands shoved casually into his pockets and staring at the group of people still arguing with Yakov.

“This is Otabek.” Yuuri gestured to him. “He helped me yesterday.” He winced at the end of the sentence as someone from the crowd yelled something exceptionally loud.

Viktor stepped forward to greet Otabek in return, but Otabek was already distracted, looking to the side with wide eyes.

Yuuri noticed the dirt shifting and raising from the ground before he noticed the estranged expression on Yuri’s face.

“Can you all LEAVE?” he demanded through clenched teeth while glaring at the crowd.

No one noticed much until the dust swarm began to rotate in a circle, the beginnings of a small cyclone. Yuri clenched his fists and pressed one to his forehead in concentration, inhaling deep, ragged breaths. A hush began to settle over the crowd; usually it would have been desired, but Yuuri was concerned with provoking the trauma likely laying deep in the minds of everyone. They’d been through enough; what if they didn’t understand what was happening and thought Yuri meant to harm them?

Yuuri stepped toward him with extended hands.

“Yuri, it’s okay, do you –“

“I NEED to make sure my grandfather is okay,” Yuri burst out. Sediments dropped all around them to leave only a natural cloud that began to settle. “I don’t understand why these people aren’t helping people who’ve been hurt!” Murmurs rippled through the crowd.

“Well? Go home!” Yuri yelled to them, dirt lifting in a gentle swirl at his feet. Yuri brought his fists to his temples and pressed them there, shaking slightly.

“I’ll walk with you.”

Otabek stood as straight as the sentence had been firm. Yuri lowered his balled up fists and stared blankly at Otabek. Then he looked affronted, and Yuuri held his breath as he waited for Yuri to demand to know who Otabek was and what he was doing, but instead he straightened his posture and walked toward Otabek as he said, “I have no idea _who you are_ but sure.”

Yuuri tried to catch Otabek’s eye to send him a questioning gaze that would translate to _is everything okay?_ But Otabek seemed to be purposefully avoiding anyone else’s eyes.

Yuri joined him at his side and threw one look over to Yuuri, expression softened slightly. “Glad you’re okay, Katsudon. You and Viktor are both incessantly reckless.” And they left.

Viktor turned to continue insisting that the crowd of people disperse and that he promised to update the city as soon as there was a plan. People begrudgingly left, Chris also saying his good-bye and that he’d drop by again within an hour or two, and the group that remained was Yakov, Viktor, Yuuri, Phichit, and the unknown man with Phichit.

Everyone looked as empty as Yuuri felt. He wondered the ways in which their experiences of the day before had differed from his own. His blood ran could at the thought that they could have witnessed more of what he did, or perhaps something even worse, and he stopped thinking altogether.

“Hey, Yuuri, come on,” Phichit coaxed. His arm was linked with the other man’s, and the man stared at Yuuri with narrowed eyes. His gaze was piercing and analytical, and next to Phichit’s soft, concerned eyes, the contrast was practically dizzying. Yuuri wasn’t concerned with whatever this person was seeing in him, however. His muscles still ached and his emotions were still ravaged.

A hand squeezed his arm as Viktor wrapped one protectively around him, and he relaxed a little.

 

* * *

 

 

The living room was a mess. Bottles and papers were still scattered where they had been left after Viktor’s fall. The scene yanked Yuuri back in time to that horrid moment. He blinked rapidly and looked away. So much was knocked over as if an earthquake had rattled the entire building until every item tumbled.

Yakov cast his hands over the mess by the shelves and upturned table and Viktor did the same for the other items scattered around in the house, and Yuuri, Phichit, and the other man, who’d been introduced to him as Seung-Gil, watched from the couches as the two wizards silently lifted items back into their places and flipped furniture upright.

Despite his stern façade, Seung-Gil’s eyes widened in awe as he watched the magic at work. Yuuri supposed he didn’t get to see magic being used for such trivial tasks like cleaning back in Clarufretus; instead, it was harnessed to destroy lives.

He grimaced and looked to his own hands. He’d promised Viktor he understood the extent of his protection against magic. It was mostly true. When Yuuri really tried to feel for it, he could. Like something simmering above the surface of his skin that had been there all his life, cooled and unused; but when magic hit against him, it bounced off and ripples expanded across the place where he’d been touched, tickling the skin underneath.

It was becoming a little more tangible the longer he stayed immersed in the magic within Clarusilva.

But since he still didn’t truly understand its purpose, he felt like promising Viktor he did wasn’t entirely fair; although he did believe he now understood his limitations more than Viktor did.

Someone rapped on the other side of the door. Viktor tossed a hand lazily toward it and it flew open. Chris entered, stepping inside and shutting the door carefully as if moving too abruptly would knock the house apart again.

Viktor dropped onto the couch next to Yuuri, and Yuuri saw that any appearance of Viktor being okay he’d seen outside had been a show for the crowd. Viktor looked as haggard as any of them, hair mussed with dark shadows under his eyes.

“You’re all cleaning up nicely,” Chris commented. “How’s everyone hanging in there?”

No one seemed to have the energy to answer. After several long moments of silence, Phichit tried to answer for them all. “We’re – we’re okay!”

Chris continued. “So, Seung-Gil, right? I wanted to ask before but didn’t get the chance to. How’d you get here?”

Phichit nudged Seung-Gil. “Yuuri doesn’t know why you’re here either,” he whispered.

Seung-Gil cleared his throat and spoke.

“First of all, I’m really sorry about… everything. As soon as I caught word of Clarufretus’s plans, I took off for Clarusilva to warn everyone. Consequences be damned. But I didn’t make it with much time to really change the outcome of this… disaster.”

“Does everyone know you’re a spy now since you’re missing?” Chris asked.

Seung-Gil shrugged. “It doesn’t really matter if they do or don’t.”

Yuuri stared at his hands. Were Sara and Michele okay? Emil and Mila? Everyone he’d met? How many other nameless faces had died yesterday?

Chris had moved to the table where Yuuri’s map was still sitting, hardly used. It seemed a pitiful tribute to the war now.

He tugged a pair of glasses from his coat pocket and slid them on.

“We need to decide a next move.” Everyone, even Yuuri, unconsciously looked to Viktor, who was gazing lifelessly in the direction of the window next to the door. It seemed like he’d dissociated from the conversation a while ago.

Yuuri followed his gaze to see his painting with the fish, and something cold and slimy settled in his stomach. Bottom feeder.

Seung-Gil spoke up again. “Actually I think I can help.”

He bit his lower lip as eye swiveled toward him. It reminded Yuuri of his own discomfort under the pressure of attention. Seung-Gil stood and pulled a piece of densely folded paper from a pant’s pocket. “This was hard to get a hold of,” he explained.

“I think I know what that is, boy,” Yakov interjected. He raised a hand and muttered something lowly, and a book shook itself from the shelves next to everyone and soared into his hand. “That’s a blueprint of the castle.”

“Indeed. The entire layout is included.”

Viktor hummed lightly, eyes still on Yuuri’s painting. “I wonder if I could actually bring her down,” he asked distantly.

Yakov was flipping quickly through the pages of the book and stepping toward Viktor as he did. “Of course you can,” he asserted. “Here we go.” He shoved the open book into Viktor’s hands, and Viktor was forced to rip his gaze from the painting and take hold the tome.

“Remember this spell?” Yakov’s voice was assuming a lecturing tone, whether he meant it to or not.

Viktor’s eyes fell to the pages and they stared back at him. He didn’t appear to read anything on them, but he nodded. Yuuri tried see what they displayed, but it was a bunch of symbols and terms he didn’t understand.

“She won’t see this spell coming and it will disable her long enough for us to,” he paused and reached in front of Viktor to flip a page, “bind her magic with a curse.”

Chris appeared behind Yakov to look at the pages over Viktor’s shoulder. “What do you mean she won’t see this coming?”

“Because of this,” Viktor answered for Yakov. He shut the book harshly. The book’s binding was made of oaky, rich leather; embossed on the front were three simple words: _SPELLS by Feltsman._

“The Feltsman family’s original spellwork,” Yakov clarified. “I don’t teach many apprentices from it, but Viktor knows some of them. And because they aren’t known at all, Vavara wouldn’t have the correct deflection spells against these.”

“With the map of the castle and that, you could find Vavara,” Phichit whispered.

Yuuri chewed his lower lip, mind immersed in contemplation. It sounded easier than it would be. To navigate into the heart of Amorglaci…

Chris asked, “So we are deciding that taking Vavara out is the only way to end this?”

“Her magic is becoming a plague,” Yakov explained. “It’s rooted in something dark that we can’t detect, and we can hope that she has had her people under some enchantment this entire time and taking her down will break that magic.”

“Seung-Gil,” Yuuri started. Seung-Gil met his eyes with curious interest. “Wouldn’t you know if people were under a spell?”

Seung-Gil shook his head. “The people that might be spellbound are the king and some of the higher court members. Everyone else either has to do what’s ordered of them or… they either believe what the King and Queen say or fear the consequences of disobedience.” Everyone winced as he referred to Vavara as queen, and he added, “Sorry, it’s a habit.”

Phichit sat up forward as if hit by a sudden thought. “Wait! Do we know she will be there?”

Narrowing his eyes, Seung-Gil replied, “I do not want to lead anyone astray. But I’m very sure she is always in the castle. No one except high court members really see her.”

The last notion struck Yuuri as odd. He nudged his glasses up, staring in the direction of his painting again but over it, out the window. His mind was trying to dredge up an old thought; he could feel the information lodged in his brain, stuck where he couldn’t quite reach.  

“Yuuri,” Viktor said, voice gentle enough that Yuuri was calmly pulled from his thought process. “Can you take a look at the blueprints of the castle? Maybe you two can work together to devise the best way inside.”

“I can get the others,” Chris started, but his voice was already trailing off, and he sighed and pulled his glasses from his face to rub at the bridge of his nose. “Actually maybe we should take it easy today. No offence, but we all look like shit.”

Yakov grunted in agreeance. “Everyone will need their strength to even begin to plan.”

Staying suspended between yesterday and their next course of action felt sickening. Yuuri felt the wave of memories from the previous day threaten to catch up with him if he just simply… waited. He feared their crash, the moment they’d swirl around him and drown his senses in flashes and bangs and cries…

“Yuuri, does that sound okay?” Viktor asked. He watched Yuuri with concern. Yakov and Chris were also gazing at him hesitantly, like he was one of the bombs dropped and might go off and tear the house in at any moment.

Inhaling shakily, Yuuri assured, “Yes, that’s probably a good idea.” He may not have felt it best for him, but it was objectively true.

Before leaving, Chris promised everyone that so far, people they knew were okay. There were deaths but the numbers were unofficial. They weren’t too high, though.

Yuuri’s stomach twisted: there shouldn’t have had to be _any_.

Phichit left, taking Seung-Gil with him. Phichit hugged Yuuri once more before leaving, reminding Yuuri again that he was so glad he was all right.

Yuuri’s eyes burned as he hugged him back. He was all right but it wasn’t fair. Others weren’t. He’d watched, seen.

He quickly blinked away the tears hotly threatening to spill as his friend stepped back. Phichit’s expression dropped from smiling to concerned, and Yuuri couldn’t bear it, but he couldn’t manage to tell Phichit why he didn’t need to be sad for himself. So he forced a smile that he was sure looked awkward and pitiful and said, “I’ll see you later. Thanks for everything!”

Yuri returned home appearing as tired as everyone else, though his spirits were lifted slightly. He walked about the kitchen, grabbing food for a quick meal, and nothing flew about in his wake.

“Where is Otabek?” Yuuri asked from where he’d returned to the couch. A book was open on his lap. Reading was his vain attempt putting his brain anywhere but the day before. He must have read the same page a few times now, but at least trying desperately to take in the words was keeping him distracted. Viktor was next to him, studying the pages of spells Yakov had directed him to with half-lidded eyes.

“He left to let his family know he’s all right,” Yuri explained through a mouthful of food. He swallowed, then changed his tone to an accusatory one. “I heard he had to practically save your dumbass though, Katsudon! You were just standing in the street watching a building burn down.”

The remark wasn’t meant to be cold; already Yuuri knew that Otabek had spared Yuri of the gruesome details of that moment. But it felt like a bucket of the icy, black water from an ocean at nighttime had been splashed over him. Dark and blinding and unforgivingly oppressive. The wave from before finally crashing down.

Yuuri’s eyes were frozen on the far wall. He tried to swallow and clear his throat and speak, to laugh off whatever Yuri had said like the expected response. Yuri didn’t even know people had died likely. He didn’t know and he didn’t need to know.

The air glimmered around him and Yuuri thought it was a sign he was going to lose consciousness, fatigue and horror catching up with him at last and pulling away his vision before overtaking his other senses.

Something clattered on the shelves next to him; Yuuri distantly thought that Yuri’s magic must be acting up again.

Viktor grabbed Yuuri’s shoulder and shook him gently. “Yuuri? Yuuri!” But Yuuri couldn’t even blink so much as respond.

Viktor said something unintelligible quickly, and Yuri yelled, “Viktor, you can’t!” But a wisps of light had already formed from his extended hand and were trying to reach Yuuri. They hardly got near him at all before Yuuri was aware of the rippling sensation again. It spread across him like a stone tossed into a pond. Viktor cursed and wrung his hand out as if he’d been hurt like that time in the forest.

It was funny that Viktor would try to use magic on Yuuri despite everyone knowing that wouldn’t work. Especially after the aforementioned forest journey they’d shared. Accidentally hurting Viktor had been disappointing, but besides that, the day had been wonderful. It felt so distinctly separate from where Yuuri was now.

“Yuuri, I’m sorry,” Yuri said. He was standing in from of him. His expression was calm, but his eyes flickering to Viktor every few seconds betrayed him.

Yuuri’s mind suddenly tore away from its trance and the frigid, punishing waters receded.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and cracked a smile without meaning to. Yuri’s forehead creased in concern despite it. “I hope Otabek didn’t mind dealing with me.”

Yuri blinked, surprised, before shaking his head and waving his arms. “No! I didn’t mean that. He – he liked you, and it was cool he came back with you, yunno? He said he’ll stop by again soon.”

Yuuri bit his lower lip and clutched the book in his lap. It still laid open, patiently waiting for its pages to be turned.

“Yuuri, are you okay?” Viktor asked carefully. He sounded almost scared. Yuuri turned fully to Viktor to give him a similar smile that he’d tried to reassure Yuri with, but Viktor was staring past Yuuri at the shelves beside them. Yuuri turned.

Items had been shoved to the back wall of the dresser. Some were knocked over. Yuuri remembered the sounds of items falling from a minute ago. He’d thought Yuri was the reason.

His heart slowly began a descent into his stomach, scraping painfully against his ribs on its way down.

“Did I do that?” he asked, voice empty of feeling.

“Well it – it wasn’t me,” Yuri stated quietly, the tenderness in his tone implying he was nervous to disturb Yuuri again.

Yuuri let his head fall back onto the headrest of the couch with a sigh and squeezed his eyes shut. “I do not know how I did that.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Yuuri opened his eyes and met Viktor’s; his stared with an eerie calm. He smiled reassuringly – and it almost concealed his concern – as he continued, “We already knew you had some… unique qualities with magic. And you just experienced some intense emotions. I don’t think it’s anything to worry about.”

A glance at Yuri immediately showed that he didn’t believe Viktor’s words, but when he noticed Yuuri’s eyes on him, he formed a similar plaintive smile.

“Right, I’m sure,” he muttered while trying to ignore the buzzing of energy above his skin.

 

* * *

 

 

Yuuri felt like he would fall asleep as soon as his head hit a pillow, but apprehension still hung as a heavy fog. Yakov occupied himself elsewhere, and Yuri, Viktor, and Yuuri stayed within the walls of the shop. Viktor insisted at some points that he ought to go around Clarusilva and visit families, but Yuri and Yuuri persuaded him that he still wasn't well enough. And what if there was another attack and he was caught off-guard?

They had to trust that Chris and the others would keep the calm for him until at least tomorrow.

Yuuri tried painting but found he couldn't summon his usual state of mindfulness that would inspire his brush across the paper.

He hadn't painted something artistic since the fish painting and of course the iron map didn't count as artistic. Therefore Yuuri began to fret over his skills bleeding out of him while he stared blankly at his canvas until he sighed and put everything away. Reading wasn't working, painting wasn't. Yuuri thought maybe they shouldn't have stopped Viktor from visiting Clarusilva's citizens, because then Yuuri could have gone with him and at least there would have been something to do.

That wasn't fair or right though, and he knew neither of them were well enough to help anyone else's mental or emotional state.

Viktor was petting Makkachin, both of them curled up on the couch. An open book was set on the table; it was a different one from the Feltsman spell book. It appeared Viktor was having as much trouble focusing as Yuuri.

Yuri was at the kitchen table with a bowl of water, grinning as he lifted the water and swirled it around in the air. He set it back into the bowl and lifted it again. Yuuri smiled weakly; was Yuri truly surprised he could manage such a feat after having created and controlled an entire storm?

Yuuri joined Viktor at the other side of Makkachin. Makkachin panted happily and wagged her tail, lapping up the attention. She even whined a low, happy whimper when Yuuri scratched behind her ears. Maybe she knew that he needed someone to help him feel... okay. Alive.

"Can't focus?" Viktor asked.

Yuuri shook his head.

"You two are thinking too much," Yuri called from the table. The water sloshed back into the bowl. "We are going to kick Clarufretus's ass this time around. For real. None of that forest-border-BS. We are heading straight for Vavara. It's going to be okay."

Yuuri focused his eyes on Makkachin and didn't speak. There wasn't anything to be said that wouldn't have the effect of dragging the mood down more. At least Yuri seemed spared from the worst of it. They would need that energy come - well, whenever the next battle would be.

His stomach felt filled with something heavy at the thought. How many more lives would be risked? Lost?

Viktor managed to crack a small smile at Makkachin. Yuuri's throat tightened; what if something happened to Viktor this time that was permanent?

Viktor had thrown himself easily into the line of fire to save him.

"Um, Viktor?"

"Hm?"

"Thank you for saving me."

Viktor’s smile faded. Makkachin continued wagging her tail, unaware of the tension.

"I think we both know it was reckless."

"... Oh." Yuuri wondered if that meant Viktor regretted it. The thought wasn't something Yuuri could argue with because he had regretted with his entire being what Viktor had done. But the idea remained to be a shard in his chest. Viktor's forehead was creased as he continued giving attention to his dog. Yuuri wanted to ask him more, to talk more, but he couldn't think of a topic light enough that wouldn't immediately seem forced or fake.

As soon as it was dark, Yuuri declared he was going to bed. Might as well try to sleep.

He bathed, changed into the most comfortable sleeping wear he had, and curled multiple blankets and sheets around him protectively. He wanted the opportunity to succumb to the most deep, dreamless sleep his mind would permit. If he woke up feeling like years had passed of solid, pure sleep, perhaps he could face the world.

Instead there were flashes of light behind his eyelids.

Someone's generator outside roared to life and he shivered against the metallic groan.

Red and orange and yellow. His body grew hot underneath the piles of blankets; he had been cold from the air against his skin after his bath minutes before, but he kicked off some of his covers in a desperate attempt to escape the pressing heat so like the hot air that clung to flames.

Heart thudding heavily in his chest, Yuuri closed his eyes again and breathed deeply and slowly. As he exhaled he counted the seconds and tried to stretch them out long and far, focusing on the meaning and significance of each number. Again and again. Each time he met a singular number, 1, 2, 3... He tried to recognize its colors, shape, meaning, wrapping his mind around the familiarity of each until finally, slowly, he slipped away, colors still prancing through his mind.

And yet some uncounted time later he was torn awake by the crash of a ball of fire behind his eyelids.

Yuuri was coated in a clammy sweat. He couldn't remember his dreams but he felt adrenaline charging through his veins but it grounded him to the bed and locked his limbs in place. God, the explosions and yelling and the girl in the window -- he'd stood there and watched. Stood and watched! What if she had been beyond that door? He let Otabek take him away and he'd tried to avoid the idea but he'd been wrestling over and over with himself that maybe he'd wanted an excuse to leave.

But what if all he needed to do was open the door for them? He could have done at least that.

Someone _died_ right before his eyes. His words were the last words someone heard.

Yuuri was startled by a scratching at his door. For a second he was horrified at the sound, his mind dredging up the pictures of the remains of the girl and her family come crawling back from the dead, screaming why Yuuri had left them to burn.

But a recognizable whine came from the other side. He let go of a breath he'd been holding and shook his head. "Makkachin," he whispered. "Go sleep."

Makkachin stopped. Yuuri fell back into the bed. Right. Just go back to sleep.

But what if he only woke up again and experienced the same, awful sensation of his body rooting into the bed and bonding him by the invisible snares? He stared up through the darkness to vaguely see the ceiling over his head shielding him from the night.

Don't think, he thought. Just don't think about it.

What an easy way to not think about something, he mused.

Makkachin scratched at his door again.

"Makka," he whispered harshly. "Sh."

But she continued. With a tired grumble, Yuuri kicked off the remaining sheets over him and dragged himself to the door to pull it open.

"What?" he demanded with hands on his hips, too tired to feel silly that she wouldn't actually respond.

She stared at him a second before padding off down the hall.

"What are you - Makkachin, why aren't you in Viktor's room?" Yuuri whispered as he stepped out into the hall to follow her. He immediately plunged into darkness though, the small light from his window unable to reach the enclosure of the hallway. He stumbled back into his room and lit a candle to maneuver through the house with.

Viktor's door was open a crack not large enough for Makkachin to slip through. Had he gone to bed without letting her inside? Maybe she had whined inside his room, too, and he kicked her out? Either idea seemed unlike him.

Yuuri followed her down the hall.

Oh.

The light from his candle extended faintly to the couch. Someone was sitting there.

"Viktor?"

Makkachin bounded onto the couch next to him and crawled into his lap.

Viktor’s elbow was resting against the arm of the couch and his head leaned on his hand. Yuuri walked around the couch to face him. Viktor didn’t move.

"Sorry," he said. "Makkachin wouldn't stop pawing at your door. I dragged her away multiple times throughout the night."

"Oh, that's okay. Are _you_ okay?"

"Can't sleep." Viktor smiled faintly at Yuuri, but it faded quickly and his eyes drew away to stare into the blank darkness in front of him.

"I can't either. Well I did. But I just... had nightmares."

Viktor looked at him solemnly for a long while. "You wanna hang out here with the can't-sleep-club?"

With a broken smile, Yuuri realized he indeed wanted to. He wanted anything other than to return to his barren room that felt as cold as slate until he shut his eyes and it dropped him into fire and thunder.

He sat next to and against Viktor so that Makkachin could adjust herself to be laying on top of both of their laps. Yuuri leaned over to set the candle on the table, not yet blowing out the light because he didn't really want to be submerged into darkness.

Viktor shifted his arm around Yuuri until he was pulling Yuuri comfortably into him. Some deep, habitual part of Yuuri still wondered at the meaning of their relationship, but the Yuuri that worried and fretted over matters like that was traversing a distant, detached plain in his mind. Seeing time cut short seemed to have that effect. So Yuuri let his head lean against Viktor and he focused on the flickering flame.

A few minutes of silence passed. Yuuri was thinking he could fall asleep like this, and he might even learn to trust his mind to not ignite the tiny flame into a hungry monster as soon as his lids shut for the night. But Viktor said, "I laid in the basement and could hardly move. Even when the pain passed. But I could hear screaming outside. I heard my world exploding and couldn't even move."

Yuuri did his best to not tense at the words and let them tumble over him as was their intention: to merely fall away as a confession.

He didn't know what to say though, and he found himself helplessly confessing, "I saw someone die."

Viktor didn't comment and Yuuri didn't want him to. They sat there for another minute, each of them mindlessly stroking Makkachin's fur.

"Remember how Yura said he preferred fire magic?" Viktor asked.

"Yeah, I do."

Viktor raised a hand and swished it through the air toward the candle flame. It was plucked off the wick and rose like a small, flickering orb.

"He totally prefers water magic now," Viktor finished the thought. "It's kind of funny, if you think about it."

Already absorbed in the small magic, Yuuri commented, "Yeah, I guess it is." The flame split into two flames. Then each split into two more flames.

"It's all thanks to you that Yuri has gotten so much better."

 _There it was again_ – that praise he was so undeserving of. "Maybe if we hadn't used that storm as a weapon, hadn't made them so mad, they wouldn't have-" but his voice broke and he bit hard at his lower lip.

The flames froze midair and Viktor's arm around him tightened. "You can't think like that," he said. "I'm sorry. I guess there isn't anything safe to talk about right now."

Yuuri blinked hard, intending to blink away his tears but one escaped to roll quietly down his cheek. It caught in the firelight and Yuuri hoped Viktor wouldn’t notice.

"Let's not talk then, okay?" Yuuri asked.

"Mm," Viktor hummed to show his acceptance of these terms. Yuuri smiled faintly at the gesture.

Viktor continued to play with the little flames, dancing them in circles and having them chase one another. They changed to blue and fluttered lightly like moths. Yuuri followed them until his lids grew heavy enough to fall, and this time his sleep was filled with dancing blue lights and warm, protective arms.

For now, he felt peace.

 

* * *

 

 

"We will catch up with you," Viktor said.

Chris raised an eyebrow. "Ya sure?" He glanced warily at Yuuri, who shrugged.

"I just want us to bring up the tail of the group." Viktor's expression seemed slightly strained as he voiced his intention to Chris. Yuuri tried to catch what was passing between them, but his attempt was lazy. He trusted whatever Viktor wanted to do.

"See you guys soon then." Chris turned to join the leaving groups of people heading toward the forest.

The sky had unfurled its clouds again. They were swollen and dark, monstrous things. Yuuri hoped the foreboding omen was for Clarufretus and not them.

"Come back inside," Viktor said and took Yuuri's hand. Yuuri followed lithely. He felt separated from himself because half his mind was still tracing along castle blueprint lines. Calmly, though, because the day was finally upon them. The final battle. The arrival of it made whatever was to happen inevitable, and thus his nerves were lifted. Because the day would end one way or another and all that was left was to try their best.

But Viktor stalling wasn't a preferable way to spend their time. "Is everything okay, Viktor?"

He was staring out the window, eyes watching the groups departing the city.

"Yeah. It's just what I said to Chris." He smiled down at Yuuri.  

Yuuri nodded his okay, but Viktor held his eyes with his own. They searched Yuuri’s, and perhaps he was trying to tell Yuuri something, gaze intense and deep, prodding into Yuuri's mind. It made Yuuri’s heart beat heavily and he wanted to tear away. It wasn't _time_ for this sort of behavior that he didn’t understand between them. It was painting his day in emotion and feeling; he needed to escape that, to focus on the task at hand and concerns over who would be lost, who would be there at the end. What Vavara would do or say. What would become of the kingdom and Hasetsu.

Viktor reached a hand toward Yuuri, pressed his palm against Yuuri’s cheek. It was cooled from the outside air still, making a small chill pass through Yuuri. Viktor’s eyes scanned over Yuuri, over and over, eyes flitting across the features of his face. His mouth was parted slightly as if he was about to speak something – something _finally_ , an explanation for all these small moments at last – but then his eyes settled on searching Yuuri’s again.

Yuuri’s teeth were clenched as he waited for Viktor do to something. He may have pulled away, but the moment felt too important for a reason he couldn’t define.

If Viktor had been looking for something Yuuri had to offer, he didn’t find it, and he dropped his hand from his face and turned back to the window to stall continuous minutes. Viktor’s other hand was still gripping Yuuri’s – it wasn’t a light, affectionate handhold, but an actual grip. Like he was holding onto him, keeping Yuuri from suddenly running off.

What was he waiting for?

"Viktor -"

"Yuuri."

He didn't say more; he was merely cutting Yuuri off from speaking. Yuuri's eyes fell to their locked hands. For some reason, the sight made him sad, but he didn't have the strength to pull away.

"Yuuri, um."

"Yeah?"

"Have you... ever felt like there was another reason you were here?"

Yuuri huffed a small laugh. "That's a lot to ask. I'm here for a lot of reasons." He gave Viktor’s hand a little pull. “Like fighting the battle today. Everyone’s waiting, Viktor.”

"I'm going to talk to you about something when this is all over, okay?" Viktor tossed one more haphazard glance through the window.

"Why not tell me now?"

Viktor pulled the door open and in a rush of movement, he spun Yuuri around and locked him into his arms so that Yuuri was pressed against his chest but facing away.

“Uh, uh, what are you-“ Yuuri stammered, face flushing as arms tightened around him and a forehead pressed onto the back of his head.

“I’m sorry.”

“Viktor?” Yuuri tried to squirm from his grasp, but Viktor was strong. Yuuri felt the beginnings of vibrations prickle against his skin, although he didn’t want his magic to be acting up. They began to expand away, protecting him from whatever it thought he needed protecting from.

The body behind him tensed and held on tighter, although Viktor seemed to be straining. “I want you to stay behind,” Viktor whispered quickly behind his head.

“What? No!” Yuuri tried to turn his head around but Viktor’s forehead kept him from budging.

“Clarusilva isn’t the only thing I want to protect now.”

Viktor’s embrace disappeared so fast that Yuuri nearly fell backwards. The door slammed shut with a puff of air and a bang.

The panic he had been lacking all day saw its opening, and it began to rise in his stomach like something wretched and hideous clawing its way up. Yuuri swallowed hard to will the creature back down for just a while longer, and he threw the door open, but no one was there; he ran down the steps calling for Viktor and spinning on his feet to look in all directions, but he was truly gone. They all were.

And Yuuri had been left behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for those comments previous chapter - I woke up to most of them and they were so fun and exciting to read ahh! ╰(▔∀▔)╯
> 
> Follow me on tumblr at [skateonme](http://skateonme.tumblr.com/) ~ <3  
> 


	12. Seeking Amaranth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> War between him and the day // Need someone to blame // In the end, little he can do alone  
> [Amaranth](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GdZn7k5rZLQ), Nightwish

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHH I'm screaming! You're all too cool. I've never written a multi-chapter before so I've never had people theorize about what will come next in my story. ╰(▔∀▔)╯I love your comments! 
> 
> This chapter uses a few graphics! They're clips from the show (don't think about it lmao it'll make sense when you see them) but yeah just a warning if someone needs it. I hope they don't mess with mobile viewing any!

What. The. _Hell_.

The panic rising within Yuuri blew into a fury he hadn’t felt before.  

Viktor dared to leave him behind after promising that he could trust Yuuri? After everyone was already relying on Yuuri for the core mission in today’s battle? Was this some sort of test or was he actually being cast aside?

Yuuri stood there outside the house, mind whirling. He could follow, run madly into the woods after them all. But he didn’t know the course they were taking to get through the woods – that had been decided among those who knew the forest better and Seung-Gil’s patrol information. Yuuri’s input had been asked for but his main focus was the castle break-in.

So Yuuri ran back up the stairs and into the house again. He stared around. Empty. Makkachin was sitting upright on the couch, staring with a dog’s-depth of concern and confusion in her eyes.

Yuuri ran his eyes over the shelves of books, across the books piled on the tables, waiting for an idea to strike. But unable to hold still, he left the house again and headed for Yakov’s shop downstairs.

He searched through bottles of potions and charms and trinkets lining shelves and tables, looking for anything useful, anything that would break through the obstacle before him now.

A small vial of a gray dusty powder was labeled _Stunning Smoke_. Beside it was a vial of a viscous red liquid that wasn't labeled but Yuuri knew it could be used for searching for something, although he wasn't sure how it worked. Be took both potions and grabbed a few others with labels like "stunning," "paralysis," "forgetfulness."

There was a bag on the counter that he grabbed and shoved the potions into it. He looked around wildly for more potentially useful items. A pendulum swung on a hook on the wall; Yuuri had seen Yakov and Yuri using it, watching it sway on its own while they mumbled something about the chance for rain. Yuuri was pretty sure it got faster the closer it was to raining.

He grabbed it and put it in the bag too, not sure what benefit it would provide, but by now he was looking for anything he vaguely understood.

A map would serve him well. Searching, he pulled out piles of papers and the few books behind the counter, jostling through them, knocking to the floor whatever wasn't useful. There were old notices about events in Clarusilva, updates about Clarufretus that Seung-Gil must have brought in months past, scribbled notes from Yakov and in handwriting belonging to others.

He tried the books. One was titled _Hinterwood Spells_. The other had no title, and when he opened it, Yuuri realized it was a journal clogged with pages of Yakov's rough handwriting, words squished together to fit within the width of each page.

Upon deciphering a few words, Yuuri realized they were incantations and recipes for magic. He didn't think it would help him, but maybe it would aid someone else if he caught up. He shoved it into his bag and resumed digging through the pile.

His eyes landed on an old periodical. The first thing that caught his eye was the title: _Queen Puts Into Motion New Age Ideas Immediately_. Suddenly very alert, his eyes sought out a date. The paper was from several years ago, definitely before the war had started.

He lifted the paper and its folded second half fell down to show a picture.

At first Yuuri was confused. He recognized the woman on the front.

What was she doing there? Yuuri had nearly forgotten about the strange encounter he had in the cafe days ago. The event had been so overshadowed by everything else that happened that his mind stalled at the triviality being tossed back into focus as he stared.

She looked pretty much the same as she had that day, perhaps a little younger with shorter hair, and she adorned the garments of a -- _a queen._

Yuuri felt the world drop out of focus, all his senses locked onto the photo of the young woman taking the crown.

It was Vavara. The Queen, the witch - but how?

He searched the image for several moments that were painfully in vain because there was nothing else there except her picture and the name printed onto the paper declaring it was, indeed, her.

He shoved the paper into his bag, stuffing it deep inside as if hiding it away would change the confusing revelation.

He backed into the wall, eyes widely staring toward the shop windows as if - now that he knew the truth - Vavara herself would appear in them and come inside and - do what? Ask him to coffee?

Because more confusing than the realization that he'd met her was that she’d met him. It seemed relevant, painfully relevant, but Yuuri couldn't fathom why. Perhaps she had been spying and decided to amuse herself with sitting down with a random, unsuspecting citizen?

Yuuri tried to conjure the memory of their conversation.

She'd asked pleasantries at first but quickly steered the talk onto him. She seemed to know Viktor and Yakov, but she hadn't asked about Viktor or anything war-related, so she didn't seem to have the intentions of a spy.

But then she had used magic on him. It slowly came back to Yuuri more and more now that he was recalling how unpleasant the interaction between them was: she'd seen his sketch and questioned him, and when her spell didn't work, she stormed off…

… After asking him what she looked like.

 _Oh_.

If she was disguising herself with some sort of spell, it made sense as to how the Queen could walk the streets of Clarusilva unnoticed. But Yuuri's mind hadn't been deceived by the spell. He'd seen her.

Something wasn't adding up still. What was her intention? Why was she alarmed by his drawings?

Ironically he'd never even completed the sketch of the tree, the passion to continue it drained from him when its sight wasn't fresh in his mind.

Yuuri's thoughts raced forward: no one knew Vavara had met him or that she walked the streets of Clarusilva under the veil of deception. Perhaps that was something she did often, spying and learning what this half the Kingdom was doing.

It seemed she wasn't the type to sit as still inside the castle as their plan had been based on.

He hurried from the shop and made his way toward the forest. He didn't have a thorough plan but he had a little bit of magic and extremely important information. If he could manage to emerge through the forest in a safe area and sneak through Clarufretus until he found someone familiar.

At least his resistance to magic would hopefully save him from most attacks, traps or otherwise.

Yuuri pulled out the vial of thickly red potion and stared at it. Something to help one find what they need…

Yuuri pulled the cork from the top of the bottle. The ooze inside immediately began to lick upwards toward the opening, seeking the air. He corked it again, heart stuttering with alarm at the sudden reaction.

"Okay, okay, just..." he muttered, thinking about how this could be used. Surely it wasn't something to be drank or thrown. But it was to show a person something.

Yuuri was at the edge of the forest now and he stopped to pull Yakov's journal from his bag.

"Sorry, Yakov," he said to the journal as he tore a page from the back of it and stuffed the rest away again. He uncorked the vial, ignoring the hungry lapping of the liquid, and tilted it gently on its side to pour several lively drops onto the paper. Pushing all feelings of ridiculousness aside, Yuuri said in the most commanding voice he could muster at the moment, "Show me where I need to go."

The liquid swirled around on the page, thick like a slug, but it left no trail of moisture in its wake to upset the page's ink.

It stalled a minute, then stretched into a line with a pointed end and stopped again. Yuuri bit his bottom lip as he waited for it to move more. When it didn't, he sighed in frustration and turned to look at the expanse of forest before him to decide on his own the way to go. He tried to remember the path Yuri had taken him, although he'd been mostly following that day.

But the red blob moved again, forming a circular shape and then reforming into the same lined figure as before, this time angled a bit differently across the page.

"OH!" Yuuri exclaimed and grinned. It was an arrow! This was going to point him the way into a safe spot in Clarufretus, surely. "Thank you!" he said to the blob as if it cared, but he was too proud of having successfully used a potion to feel silly.

He marched into the forest, eyes darting between the arrow and the brambly ground. Each time the arrow deformed and reformed to point in a slightly different direction, an immense sense of satisfaction filled Yuuri. He was going to catch up to everyone and damn everything if Viktor were to have an issue with it.

Yuuri still couldn't believe it; now that his initial anger had faded, he was left with a residual hurt and sense of betrayal. He wanted to stifle the feelings, to bottom them up and shove them deep inside his bag with the picture of Vavara, but without having to expend energy on navigation as the little magical arrow did the work for him, his thoughts were left to seep in his feelings.

Viktor said that he wanted to protect Yuuri; was that supposed to be a compliment? Because Yuuri felt sick. What if something happened _to Viktor_? How was Yuuri supposed to sit still with that thought looming? It wasn't fair. Viktor wasn't being fair.

Stupid, stupid Viktor.

Yuuri had already experienced the momentary dread of thinking he'd lost Viktor; the feeling wasn't something he planned on revisiting.

His pace picked up, re-invigorated by his determination.

Far, far beyond the trees, Yuuri thought he heard an explosion. He did his best not to focus on it.

His heart bounced to his throat as a deer suddenly hurtled from the trees, sprinting past him.

Yuuri was aware of a change in the atmosphere - it felt sluggish, drained, like the trees were weighted down by an extra dose of gravity pulling at their limbs. Yuuri almost imagined he even saw the limbs above him sag as if heavy with wet snow. He didn't feel too affected by it, but simply aware that there was a distinct wrongness in the air.

He moved on. A few minutes farther and the birds had stopped chirping.

The bad feelings only thickened, the air seeming to pull him deeper into the heart of the decay, and then Yuuri recognized the space ahead of him. But his heart sank with the recognition because the scene before him was altered greatly.

He was where Viktor took him into the forest. But the tree that Viktor had sat against that day was changed – its trunk had darkened, and black lines like veins spread up the tree like some sort of fungal disease. Dead leaves were scattered at its base.

The trees nearby were showing similar damage, though to less of an extent, the veins only licking at the wood in a few places on them. The air was heavy with the scent of old wood and a dusty, gloomy scent that reminded Yuuri of mold.

The soft babble of the nearby stream carried through the dying stalks of wood.

Yuuri's eyes searched deeper into the forest past the trees, and many more bore the signs of devastation. Some were far gone, the veins having enlarged to engorged tendrils that covered the majority of the trunk. It made the forest seem much darker than it was.

Yuuri looked back at arrow on his paper. It was pointing him toward the stream, angled a little to the side. Keeping his eyes between it and the ground so that he wouldn’t have to stare at the forlorn sight of the rotting forest, he walked toward the stream. When he stopped, the arrow reformed again, pointing him upstream, which was odd. Yuuri was pretty sure he needed to cross the river to get to Clarufretus. But he followed anyway, the corruption of the forest growing thicker and thicker as he went. How much was this affecting everyone’s magic?

The arrow suddenly changed to tell him to cross the stream.

Yuuri smiled when he saw there was a fallen tree over the water below. Ah, so the arrow had just picked out a convenient spot for him to cross. How clever this potion must be. Yuuri idly wondered how long it took to create.

He crossed over the trunk and hopped back onto the ground, eyes on the paper to wait for his next direction. The arrow morphed to point him back up the stream. Yuuri frowned.

That still didn't seem right, but he didn't trust his own directions to break away from the guidance of magic. He walked on.

His feeling of apprehension steadily increased with each step along the stream. How far into the battle were they? Yuuri felt foolish to have thought he could have caught up with everyone in time. But surely there would be someone hanging behind – perhaps Sara and Phichit, who were working together to help the wounded. If he found them, that would be a start.

His chest tightened again with the irritation that Viktor left him when even Phichit was going out to help.

Someone cried out; Yuuri stopped dead and looked up.

He was at the tree he had sketched. But it was no longer boldly rooted into a ground filled with purple flowers. No longer did its bark jut thick like armor across its trunk. It had been struck with ailment too, but it wasn’t like the rest of the trees.

The bark had run pale and the tree had caved in on itself in places; across other sections, bark chunks had scabbed off to reveal phloem underneath so black it looked charred. The corruption seemed to only grow stronger higher up the tree, and Yuuri realized it wasn’t that the tree was getting worse higher up, but that the disease started from the branches and crept downward. It’d almost been entirely consumed.

Those purple flowers Yuuri once admired were all freshly dead, laying in spoiled heaps, not even a glimmer of their once deep violet color. They were blanketed by the tree’s own dead leaves.  

The crying choked out again. It came from the base of the tree.

And there she was. For some reason, Yuuri was not surprised.

He held up the paper in front of his face. The little blob had become powder and now it fell away like sand.

Vavara hadn't noticed him yet. She was kneeling on the forest floor, clutching a long clump of blankets to her. They were filled with something but Yuuri couldn’t see what.

Vavara's cries suddenly ripped from her in a terrible shriek of rage, and it shook Yuuri to his chilly core. Her wails continued muffled, face buried into the fabrics she hugged to her.

Yuuri didn't know how to not startle her. So he tried to gently speak. "You're-"

She yelled something foreign and angry and whipped around with a raised hand. A twisted, gnarled light bolted toward him, exploding in green crackling sparks as it touched mere centimeters from Yuuri.

She looked blankly at him. Somehow, despite her face wet with tears and eyes puffy with grief and anger, Vavara was so starkly still that woman in the coffee shop.

"It's YOU," she accused as if Yuuri had directly wronged her by being here. "Why can't magic touch you? What have you done to yourself?"

To his surprise Yuuri found his voice easily. "I don't know why."

The answer didn't appear to satisfy her but she also didn't appear to care. She turned away from him.

"Leave me."

"Wh-what?" How could she possibly only want to send him away?

Questions flared through his mind. He had her here and she couldn't harm him. He could ask her why - why all the war, and the killing - did she know people were getting HURT?

And for what? Clarusilva thought she wanted power and control. She preached to her people that Clarusilva would lead them to disaster for relying heavily on magic and that they must cut off magic's source.

But too many aspects didn't fit together smoothly. Everyone seemed to blindly fight on in battles grounded in mutual misunderstanding.

"There's nothing more you can do, it's over." She turned to send a glare his way. Her eyes were tired. When Yuuri didn't budge, she spat, "The forest will DIE, there's nothing anyone can do."

Vavara moved enough that Yuuri could see what she held. It only furthered his confusion: she held a girl. She was young, possibly Yuri's age. She resembled Vavara some. A more delicate, peaceful version, perhaps. She was unconscious but didn't seem harmed; one might claim she were sleeping if circumstances had been normal.

Yuuri stepped forward. Vavara made to throw her hand up again but she only lifted it halfway before dropping it. "Please don't humor me and leave me to mourn in peace."

"Is she dead?"

"No." Vavara clutched at the fabric of the blankets.

Slowly, Yuuri bent down until he was kneeling and mostly level with Vavara. He left only a meter or two between them. "I don't understand what's going on," he said slowly, "but people are fighting and they're looking for you to end the war. But you're here. You know I'm going to tell them where you are."

Yuuri knew communicating so much with the enemy wasn't advisable - but Viktor had left him behind, and Yuuri was going to do things however they felt right. Besides, the potion had led him here. He wasn't sure what that meant, but it had to mean _something_.

Vavara huffed a weak, derisive laugh, eyes deep in the piles of dead foliage before them. "I -" she tried, but her voice thickened, and she stopped to take a deep breath, eyes glistening with fresh tears. Yuuri chewed at his bottom lip; this woman was the cause of so much pain, yet here she was, broken before him, looking about to give up on life.

Finally, she gasped, "I can't," and tears streamed silently down her cheeks.

The tree beside them sat as a quiet observer, if there were any life left in it to observe with. The forest still smelled deeply of rot, but beside the tree, crouching in piles of long-wilted flowers, there was a pungent, florid aroma. It was sickly sweet scent. Perhaps the flowers had died so recently that their scent still clung to the air, spoiling at its own pace.

Vavara had been alarmed by his sketch of the tree. And now she was here, crying at its dead side.

"What's so special about this tree?"

Through her tears, she managed an exasperated snort. "You don't even know. You're truly just... clueless, aren't you?"

Yuuri didn't defend himself because it wasn't entirely false. In fact, it was the most real thing anyone had said to him in a while.

"The flowers that grow at this tree's roots are called amaranth. They are supposed to be able to break any curse, undo any spell. It's a legend in Amorglaci. An old one no one talks about much anymore."

“They’re dead though.”

Vavara shot him an exasperated look. “They are.”

“What were you trying to do?”

And then she heaved a heavy, weary sigh. "This is my sister."

The girl didn't stir, but Yuuri could see she was breathing slowly.

Vavara's eyes glazed over, staring not at the dead flowers, but past them where she pulled her memories out to hang them in the air between her and Yuuri. And for what reason, Yuuri could only assume that she'd been keeping the words tangled in a web inside herself for a very, very long time.

And so the story went, and Yuuri’s eyes fell into the dead amaranth and he felt Vavara pull him into a time long ago:

 

* * *

 

Years ago, a very powerful wizard came to Amorglaci. He was passing through for business and stayed in Clarufretus. He was hoping to start a company to begin training wizards to be as powerful as himself. He quickly became respected by men, and with the women – well, he was beautiful, and they all fawned over him. But I never liked him. I saw through to his prejudicial, shallow core.

 

 

But then he met my sister and out of all those women he had crawling around his feet, he sought her, who also held him in distaste. But he was persistent; he wouldn’t take no for an answer and swore one day he would make her love him.

 

 

She resisted over and over but he was constantly trying to charm her with magic tricks, beautiful flowers conjured from lands faraway, lights and music pouring from the air to fill her ears each morning and night.

 

 

And eventually the person he was faded away in her mind and all she saw was the magic he manifested, and she fell for the deception. She proclaimed her love to him and I did my best to respect it.

 

 

But it wasn’t even a month later he discarded her and she was heartbroken.

 

 

In my anger, I spread vicious rumors about him to tear down his reputation in hopes he’d be forced to leave the Kingdom. And it worked.

It was reckless because he could break me with a flick of his wrist but I didn’t care. My sister cried so much for me to leave it alone and to let her grieve in peace and I didn’t listen. So when he came one day, I thought it was for me, and proudly threw the door open to him. But he stormed passed and lay a wretched, evil curse on my sister instead: he cursed her so she fell nearly lifeless – but lifeless would have been better; instead she’s like the dead but her heart flutters still, just strong enough to keep her in permanent, ageless sleep.

 

 

And nothing lifts the curse; there is no cure, except for these flowers growing beneath the oldest oak in the forest that were said to have the power to break anything. The legends always said they were hard to find and often the tree hid them from humans. But I thought if I searched hard and long enough, one day I’d find them.

I learned magic to help me search for amaranth every day for months but never succeeded. I needed more help, but most people didn’t believe amaranth even exist. But I believed.

There was already tension between these cities. So I became adept at darker magic, cast the King into a curse of deception and I let the Kingdom believe I wanted to advance Amorglaci by expanding Clarufretus and build factories, but I only truly wanted to tear down every tree until the only one standing was this one. I told people to watch for it, made things up about the value of its wood and that it needed to be harvested instead of destroyed. I knew none of my charms would be strong enough to harm it anyway – it won’t burn under normal fire.

I heard that Yakov had some new fancy person around that was responsible for reinvigorating Clarusilva’s fight, and for some reason I thought it was that same wizard who cursed my sister, back to taunt me. But I was directed to you, Yuuri. And when I saw that you’d seen the tree – something I’ve only seen illustrated in ancient tomes and spellbooks, I grew impatient. I forwent the measly charms and hexed the entire forest with a curse that I bound to my sister’s own. And until her curse is broken, the one on the forest can’t be. But – I was rash as I always have been and didn’t consider that just as the flowers take their energy from the tree, the tree takes it energy from the rest of the forest. And it died. _It DIED_.

 

* * *

 

Her voice broke and the tears fell again.

Yuuri had been long stunned into silence, staring at the girl limp in Vavara's arms. To imagine that none of this had been political on her part at all... she solely wanted to save what she loved and used political aggression to fuel an entire kingdom to do her bidding.

Yuuri rolled this information over in his head, over and over again, thinking through each detail of what she said to try to make sense of it, and the more he thought over her words - her words spoken with her voice genuinely thick with tears - the more Yuuri stared at the lifeless girl and then at the lifeless tree, the more he realized how tragic this situation was. For everyone - but as much as his heart ached for the horrors the woman before him had been subjected for, he still recognized that she wasn't innocent. She may have been once but she wasn't anymore.

"People died," he whispered. "People probably ARE dying."

She nodded. Swallowed. Spoke, "I - I can't undo what I've done."

She’d rooted her recent spells in her sister's curse - Yuuri's stomach twisted at the implications of this, and he didn't want to ask, but he had to, "This is permanent? All of... this?" He gestured at the forest, the trees around them dying as they spoke.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "When I started this I didn't think it would take so long, didn't think things would go so far. But once it was all started... it eventually was out of my control, and I just had to keep playing the part, hoping I'd get what I wanted." She was unable to look him in the eye now. Telling her story seemed to have stolen the last of her will. Before him was someone who'd been completely, utterly defeated.

Yuuri imagined the cursed disease of the forest spreading until all the trees had been eaten away; he knew already it had been injected into the ocean too. Which meant it could expand around the entire world one day, blacking out life until one girl opened her eyes from an eternal sleep.

His heart sunk further and further as he digested what all of this entailed: one day, no more Clarusilva, no more Amorglaci, no more Hasetsu, because eventually Vavara's curse would consume everything. Even if Clarufretus didn't know it, they couldn't live without the forest and magic. And... he would have to return home and how would he face his family?

Though he figured she would have searched the ends of the earth for this answer and he didn't need to ask, he still felt he had to: "There is... no other way to save her? Spell or... anything?"

"I have searched so much. I've found nothing." She paused before continuing. "You... aren't a wizard, I suppose. But if you were, you could feel how full of curse she is. The energy shudders against my hands. I've wondered all these years if, perhaps, she's been in pain."

Yuuri wasn't a wizard. He didn't practice magic at all, yet he knew that he wasn't without some sort of... magical touch. He reached out and let his hand hover over the girl - and he did feel it. Felt the magic within the girl simmering like small ripples against his hand, and he wondered as well if she hurt. The thought of someone locked inside their own mind, silently subjected to excruciating pain made Yuuri wish, despite not knowing this girl, to set her free. If at least that good had come from this.

Vavara noticed before Yuuri did; "What are you doing?" she asked.

"Wha-" But then Yuuri felt the now-familiar tingling at his fingertips that meant his barrier was bending back. He let himself focus on the sensation for a second. But suddenly it burned and he withdrew quickly, shaking his hand out. Nothing had hurt him before.

"What was that?" Vavara demanded, assertiveness easily coming back into her tone. How long had she needed to train herself to be brave, sharp... even scary? Yuuri wondered. She'd broken herself completely to save the person she loved.

_Apparently even she has something to love..._

Yuuri had an idea. And with the arrival of the idea he felt a little numb, a little terrified. Because he didn't know what would happen - but if he could save everyone then whatever would happen to him was surely worth it. Right?

"If she was saved would you make sure everything ended?"

Vavara stared at him with stony reservation in her eyes as if she weren't daring to let herself believe for a moment that was possible now. But Yuuri saw hope there. "I would. It's all I ever wanted. The curse on the forest would break, and the King would wake up from his delusions." She laughed a small, weak laugh. "You know, I always thought myself a pretty powerful witch. But I've just created a nasty web of magic all bound to the same curse. I'm not very creative." Her hands were shaking as she rambled; her nerves did little to calm Yuuri's rising ones.

Not knowing what was on the other side of his idea helped him feel hopeful. But worst case scenarios still tugged at him, whispering snidely of a pull into a never-ending blackness. Was it worse to be like this girl, or dead?

He flexed his hands before him and Vavara watched quietly.

Remembering the burn from before, Yuuri very slowly placed his hands on the girl. He felt the simmering of magic again; it seemed to start boiling at his touch. Slowly it lifted into his hands. His nerves spiked and it dropped out, leaving his hands empty and cold.

For so long Yuuri tried to figure out how he could control his ability, and finally the last drift of fog lifted away. Of course, it seemed simple.

Conversations overheard between Viktor and Yakov and Yuri and Chris and Mila and everyone flitted through his memory and though Yuuri never understood much of them, one thing was always the same: magic was about feeling and imagining and it never worked if you weren't willing to push it with your mind.

Yuuri couldn't let magic in when he was anxious, mad, worried, because then he flared up and protected himself.

But when he was open, raw, happy, curious, confident, the world would begin to leak in.

Now he needed it to flood in.

Already magic was crawling back inside of him through his hands, but he focused his mind away from the sensation and thought about life on the other side of the girl waking up. A world where everyone was free.

He stayed in Clarusilva for Hasetsu. That was the start of it all. He wanted to save his family, his dog, his town. Wanted to bring back what once was theirs.

Then he had found out Phichit was in Clarusilva and wanted to help his life too. Yuuri had learned to respect the wizards in the house he was staying in but then soon they were his friends too, and their friends even became his friends.

And slowly he had fallen in love with Clarusilva because he began to understand it and its flaws, and soon he understood Clarufretus even without stepping foot into the city itself. In his own way, Yuuri had made the Kingdom of Amorglaci his home.

He thought of little Yuri with his powerful magic: a beautiful, maddening rage of storm and passion.

Yuuri's arms burned with pain but he held on because it wasn't real fire and it wasn't a real burn, so he needed to hold on because it was working, maybe _maybe maybe_. It wasn't enough yet though.

Yuuri had learned to respect, adore, admire Viktor. Even now his heart picked up speed at the thought of him.

Viktor had believed in him from the start for some strange reason Yuuri wasn't sure he would ever learn - and Viktor had sent Yuuri spinning down a path to learn so much about himself and magic although he hadn't really thought of it until now. But it was Viktor who hooked him into Clarusilva, Viktor who found him in Hasetsu.

And Yuuri never got to understand what Viktor meant to him; he'd blocked it out often.

Here and now, it seemed so childish to have done. To have squandered away precious moments with nerves and fear. 

Viktor hadn't taken him with him this morning and it hurt so much for a thousand reasons, but the one that felt so distinctly awful was the notion that perhaps Viktor didn't believe in him anymore. It made Yuuri feel like the rot of the forest was rooting in him as well, tracing its way up his insides. The sting that touched Yuuri's eyes mimicked the pain of the magic pushing into him, invading his body with its heaviness of such an old curse.

_Clarusilva isn’t the only thing I want to protect now._

It was funny to think of Viktor’s words. Yuuri had been so sure it was a ridiculous idea that something might happen to him he'd need protecting from. But now -

_I'm going to talk to you about something when this is all over, okay?_

WAIT, Yuuri wanted to scream suddenly, and he almost lost all the work he'd done. It hit him with a violent blow that he didn't know what Viktor wanted to tell him. Oh, god, what if he never learned? Was Viktor even okay?

The thought that Yuuri might never see Viktor again dragged him so, so horribly down into a sadness that it was a struggle to keep hanging on.

Distantly, Vavara said something, but Yuuri's ears were ringing.

He tried desperately to hold on: he thought again of everyone this was for. Hasetsu, Vicchan, the Nishigori triplets, Amorglaci, Phichit and all the friends he’d made, the girl from that awful day whose eyes will never see the world healed, the girl laying before him now, Viktor. _I'm doing this for Viktor._

For everyone but also for Viktor, because if he didn’t fix this now then Viktor will never rest. He will always be looking for a way to save his kingdom. Yuuri visualized it: years on, both sides of Amorglaci in shambles, and Viktor still searching for a _way_. Some _way_ to save it all. He wouldn’t be happy; the bits of light that still remained in his eyes when he saw Makkachin, saw Yuri, his friends, _saw Yuuri_ – would have gone out. And Yuuri wanted Viktor to be happy. And he thought, _I want him to be happy because I love him._

Oh - that was it, gentle understanding laying across him like a soft blanket. How long had that been there? He loved Viktor.

The world blew up into light so intense that Yuuri was nearly thrown backwards by its force, but he found his limbs locked into place and practically numb, vibrating with some ferocious torrent of magic. He squeezed his eyes shut but the light was white hot. Vavara was yelling; blood rushed in his head and he couldn’t tell what she was saying, but he felt whatever she was yelling about: magic was pouring into him, hot and molten and his hands were screaming, his body on fire. It weakened a moment as his hands began to push away from the girl, his body resisting the hell he was forcing himself to delve into. But then hands were on his, and he knew Vavara was helping him. He reconnected with the girl and the channel of magic pouring into him resealed.

And then the sea rushed onto him. That's what he imagined, at least; the entire sea pouring over him, submerging him deep, deep, cooling his limbs from that awful torrential heat, but drowning him all the same. His ears no longer rung but sound was convoluted as it is underwater, traveling sluggish and molted. There’s a pounding as his heart thwacked in his ears.

The world shifted: it felt like an earthquake, a deep rumble cascading from where he sat under the surface of the sea and spreading throughout the entire world.

Yuuri was no longer sure if his eyes were open or if it’s just too dark here under the water. Perhaps he's been submerged so deep that light no longer reached him.

All at once the entire weight of the sea woke up to press itself against him from all sides, a pressure so thick and suffocating that Yuuri figured he might truly be crushed by it. It closed in on his body and then his mind, flooding it with dark waters. It became so present that it was all there was, and then it only felt like falling asleep. A deep, heavy slumber that pulled Yuuri down so heavily that he didn't have to worry about the pressure threatening to cave himself inward any longer.

He floated downward past scenes flickering of a young woman and a man, dancing in moonlight. And then suddenly the young woman is alone, crying, and then she’s laying across the ground and motionless and there’s no more moonlight and she’s there with Yuuri deep within the ocean. She opened her eyes and stared at Yuuri for a moment, not recognizing him but knowing him all the same. She nodded once and then kicked off from the bottom of the sea that Yuuri still couldn’t feel beneath him; she swam upward, away from her watery grave.

Yuuri let himself slip away more, falling softly through the water. He doesn’t reach the bottom.

Next to him, someone was waking up. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't be too scared. D: Also a lot of remaining holes get filled in next chapter! Next chap will be very different (and very long) and I'm so excited for it. Thanks everyone. <3 
> 
> follow me on [tumblr](http://skateonme.tumblr.com/) ~


	13. You Will Always Burn As Bright

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If I could be with you tonight  
> I would sing you to sleep  
> Never let them take the light behind your eyes  
> [The Light Behind Your Eyes](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=76WJJ57YoG0), My Chemical Romance

At first there was shock.

And then there was wondering if anything could have been different.

Everyone recalls the past in a weaving web of causalities linking together to one single moment. That _moment_ that everyone felt in unanimous wonder and awe – and then with a dread that hollowed out their souls, because there could never possibly be this great a joy without a price.

No matter how many times one traces through that web, along single strands spun from what seemed so trivial a decision, action, voice, another answer is never found. But it seems so strange – there had to be another way.

They think this because it is hard to imagine the significance of a smaller piece compared against the whole.

But they try to re-spin the web anyway. Again and again.

 

* * *

 

 

Phichit stopped at Claru-News before leaving for Yakov’s. He wanted to gather a few belongings he kept there. He didn't know how long he'd be away.

Celestino was inside with Leo, but they weren’t working. Leo was doodling on paper, mind aloof. Phichit would have asked what was wrong today if he didn’t already know.

Celestino was seemingly in the same trance – he looked up when Phichit entered.

“How is he doing?” he asked.

Phichit shrugged as he made his way through the office space. He stuffed his belongings into his bag quickly. The more he moved, the less he noticed the ache in his chest. “I haven’t heard anything new. So, the same.”

“Was there really no sign this would happen?”

Phichit shook his head despite not being sure if it were true. There hadn’t been – but, because there hadn’t been, it happened. Had they not paid attention?

Maybe if Phichit had listened to Viktor years ago and not discouraged him from what he planned to do. Maybe if Phichit had paid more attention to his friend’s progress while being here.

But if this was meant to happen, were they all pawns of fate? It was so long ago now, but Phichit had felt that it was so right to keep Yuuri in Clarusilva.

And everything had changed afterwards. He’d been excited about the reinvigorated charge in the air, as if they were finally moving forward again after years of being stationary, caught in some spell that froze time.

“It’s really over then,” Celestino stated. His voice lacked conviction.

Phichit raised his eyes to the window. It rained yesterday. Today started with overcast, but the sun was finally breaking through to make the air warm and muggy. Two gulls flew overhead, twining around one another until the crossed over a cloud and their outlines blended in with the sky. The air was light and warm and weathery and free – after so many years of stilted magic and stilted progress, it felt as if the earth was finally turning on its axis again. Not even pushed by a force as Yuuri’s arrival had triggered. But alive. Moving, breathing.

“It’s over.”

 

* * *

 

 

Yakov didn’t like what he didn’t understand.

It was always a flaw of his, having come from a long line of great wizards whose knowledge was stacked upon the past generation’s, the collection of magical-knowing so great that eventually it seemed there was nothing more to be learned.

The world was moving forward, and as it did, it tried to shake away magic. The obstacles Clarufretus presented were reinvented each time as they combined magic with technology until at last they began to discard magic entirely. The only use they had left for it was using it against itself.

When Yuuri came, he merely represented more of what was new. A magic that didn’t make sense – it was either too ancient or too new. It was easier to ignore his strange magical affliction.

_But look at everything now._

He stood back and watched the young people before him crowding around the couch.

Maybe if he’d listened to Viktor’s bantering at the start of it all, the paths taken could have been altered.

 

* * *

 

 

It was hard to think about what any one of them should have done differently because they all wanted it to be over. And by the information that was slowly leaking in, there seemed to be no other way.

Initially, when Yuri found out that Viktor left Yuuri behind, he was outraged. All those months yapping about finding something in that scrawny town that could help them – what happened to all that?

When Viktor brought Yuuri home the first time, Yuri was exasperated. He’d figured Viktor was at the end of his rope and had snatched the first interesting person he could find just to feel like he finally found what he was searching for.

But it didn’t take long to start believing Viktor’s prior tales about how there was something out there that could help them, and that it might be Yuuri.

The longer Yuuri stayed in Clarusilva, the more he seemed to connect with its energy. He was taking root in it and the idiot didn’t even seem to notice. Yuri wondered if others noticed along the way but didn’t speak up. Yakov just grumbled incoherent words and stalked off when Yuri tried to ask him about it. And no way was Yuri going to question star-struck Viktor.

But Yuri felt it, felt the way Yuuri’s presence aligned the atmosphere of a room and made it easier to focus, easier to direct one’s magic on a clear path. Sometimes Yuri thought he might be sensitive to the effect because his own magic was so chaotic.

Should he have taken the initiative and tried to understand Yuuri more?

Shoulds and coulds were useless, though. He needed to look toward what they had to do next.

“Yuuri?” Viktor gasped and launched forward to grip Yuuri’s hand. His eyes fluttered.

Yuri jumped up. The world tugged inward, but he braced himself against the strange magic and thrust out his hands. A translucent sheen of light enveloped all of them. He wanted to listen to what was being said behind him, but he had to focus on pressing the barrier outward.

He prayed they could figure this out before they dropped dead of exhaustion.

 

* * *

 

 

Chris’s first impression of Yuuri was that he wasn’t normal. His aura was so unusual that for a moment Chris thought Viktor may have brought some creature disguised as a human into the house. But Chris had quickly concluded what he was seeing wasn’t an aura.

It was a field of energy surrounding Yuuri and it refracted the world around him like water. Wherever he went, he was a wedge in the world, churning through energy and deflecting it – and sometimes even smoothing out the ripples like an iron.

It was so tangible that Chris felt it like the ebb of a tide, begging him inward, although when Yuuri was clouding in more negative thoughts, the water swept up shore as a pushing threat; and sometimes, when Yuuri was caught in more vulnerable moments, it pressed out aggressively like the sudden crash of a wave. A protective shove.

Chris knew he was _sensitive_ to it - but the others must have noticed some. It was too constant.

But no one ever seemed to want to talk about it. And when he’d approached Viktor one time, Viktor had silenced him.

_“Chris, no.” Viktor shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. He’s - something’s happening. I can’t tell what. But let it be.”_

Chris wasn’t sure how much control Yuuri had over his magic. If it was purely emotion then his control came down to his ability to fluctuate his own emotions and not how he could channel magic through him.

But the night of the party convinced Chris that perhaps he could. Yuuri was drunk and, as Chris would expect, the haze of protection around him was shimmering away from him, loose and unguarded, leaving his aura – for the first time – to break through and unveil itself to Chris’s eyes. But Yuuri had felt Chris’s touch on him and his resistance had blown outwards, strong and sturdy and not that of a bumbling drunk.

Chris always hoped that as Yuuri appeared to unconsciously adapt to the environment around him, Viktor would eventually do something about it. Already had, maybe.

But watching now as Viktor gave the unconscious Yuuri his full and devoted attention, eyes wide with fear but also affection and pain, did he realize Viktor had been disillusioned the entire time. He’d forgotten why he retrieved Yuuri from Clarusilva.

Chris felt the drag before anyone else did because he saw it. The air gasped inward, objects fragmented with the skewed magic.

He was about to yell a warning, but Yuuri’s eyes fluttered slightly; Yuri jumped up to cave them all into the artificial atmosphere where a balance was forced. How long could they keep doing this?

 

* * *

 

 

Sara felt Mila’s grip on her hand, reassuring and firm. On the other side of her, with his bandaged leg propped up on a chair, her brother smiled for her. But the deep well within her didn’t go away. Everyone had called upon her to see if there was anything that could be healed; she hadn’t wanted to tell them that she couldn’t do anything. It wasn’t because Yuuri had a curse or ailment beyond what she could handle, though they all figured it was that – a curse. Because that’s how all of this started, right?

But – “This is just him.”

“What do you mean?” Viktor asked, almost angry. They were all angry. Angry they didn’t understand.

She bit her bottom lip, trying to process what she knew and didn’t know so she could explain. Mila twined their fingers and smiled softly at her, a gentle gesture.

“He’s not afflicted with anything. He just…” Her eyes scrambled about them. She grabbed a book off the nearest shelf, not bothering to read its title as she opened it. “He’s like a book that has had a really strong cover, but,” she continued, bending the book open, backward, its spine creaking in resistance. Finally the binding cracked and the pages of the book tore out and fell in a heap to the ground. Everyone winced.

“But the book’s binding has been broken,” she finished. She stared at the clump of pages at her feet. They all did.

 

* * *

 

 

Viktor stared down at Yuuri’s unconscious form. He was breathing slow and heavy like his body was under tremendous weight.

He wasn’t dead. But Viktor didn’t know what he was yet or if he was better off this way. The gruesome mixture of sorrow and regret curled itself inside of him. He couldn’t bare the battle of thought in his mind. Part of him insisted this was his fault and it could have been avoided, but another part knew. It knew that Yuuri was brought here for this. Viktor had spent years searching. He just didn’t think he’d fall in love with the answer.

But how long had he been in love? For years perhaps, although he hadn’t met the true Yuuri until recently.

There was that sickening tug in the air, and Yuuri’s eyes opened.

 

* * *

 

 

**Ten hours earlier**

Viktor stepped out of the air in front of the forest with shaky knees. He felt pale and his mouth was dry, the magic to transport him across the city to escape Yuuri draining him fast. He looked ahead and felt the promising pull of the forest, its energy grazing him even now, pulling him into a whirl of color. But he could also feel the grey blurring at its edges, seeping deep through many layers of ancient magic, corrupting.

But today was the last day of that.

Viktor knew that Yuuri would be furious. Was furious.

But Yuuri didn’t know his way through the forest and Viktor could trust that he wouldn’t try to find them. He might start to but Viktor knew he’d realize soon that he would only find danger alone.  

Chris’s eyes were sharp and questioning when Viktor found the group.

“So you decided to make him stay.”

Viktor didn’t want to answer.

Viktor didn't want to talk about it.

Chris shook his head. "All these years, Viktor. And you finally found him. Have you forgotten?"

There was a low buzz of magic around them as they crossed into the forest. It was weak and frail, an unsteady wavelength, damaged by Vavara's latest curse. Already he could smell the rot deeper within the forest. Viktor thought it over in his head a thousand times and he knew today was about striking her down.

Even if Yuuri could resist magic, he didn't know how to harness it. Perhaps all this time Viktor had been meant to teach him to use it? But it was too late now. Yuuri couldn't help them. Not really, not beyond travelling the castle, and Seung-Gil was going to meet them later for that. Lacking Yuuri wouldn't be detrimental.

Chris was wrong: Viktor hadn't forgotten. Not for a minute. But this wasn't what he'd envisioned years ago. He didn't think the answer would be a someone. A someone wonderful. A someone who blushed and flustered at every word he said, a someone who was so unreadable at times, a someone whose magic was so deeply new and mysterious that the entire world shifted slightly around him as if it were making room for his presence. He didn't know it would be like this.

A someone worth holding onto. Not tossing into the throes of battle.

Viktor vividly remember the first time Hasetsu called him.

_It’d been years ago; he hadn't known at the time where the place was..._

 

* * *

 

The tensions between the cities had been finally breaking into skirmishes at the edges of the forest. Then Clarufretus cut trade with its sister city.

Next they set their side of the forest on fires infused with cursed magic. To avoid the poisoned ashes from blowing into the kingdom, they gathered the charred forest and sent it to sea.

Amorglaci was officially divided, and Viktor had set to work to find a solution because everyone was begging one of Yakov and the wizards he'd raised the magic of.

Viktor had reached out and calmed crowds and offered soothing words and distributed healing tips despite Yakov's warning.

"Inject yourself into the center of their hope and you will become burdened by a cause you can't carry. There is something wrong with Clarufretus." Yakov's words were that of an old wizard made irritable by long years of dry teachings. And now, Viktor realized, political peace. Amorglaci hadn't faced unrest in a century.

"What are you proposing?" Viktor had asked with narrowed eyes, already suspecting the answer.

"Independence. It's for the best. Fretus has long showed abandoning the craft and nature. This -" he threw a hand toward forest outside the window in a dismissive gesture - "this world they're trying to invent is dirty, loud, and grinds magic into the ground."

Viktor shook his head and cast his eyes toward the line where the forest canopies met the sky. Out there, over those leaves, was their sister city demanding some sort of twisted estrangement. To not be separated, but for Clarusilva to abandon magic as an archaic and outdated mode of life and join them in the beginnings of something anew, with motors and engines and things that burned through the night.

"That may be so, but I think if we can just figure out what they want, we can reconcile. We can remind them of why magic is good."

Yakov's ideals faded with time, and so did his voice in matters. He offered magical advice and became involved in dissecting the Queen's intentions as the fog surrounding the initial build of tension lifted and they understood she was the source of disgruntlement, but he held onto the notion that something was wrong with Clarufretus. Something deep and evil and unmanageable.

Viktor did not believe the city was beyond repair, even as he woke everyday to a little more magic tugged away from Clarusilva, the energy in the air cut a little thinner.

They kept trying to repair the forest and sea and peacefully reach out to Clarufretus but their attempts were blocked, their messengers rejected until finally one was held hostage.

Grasping for anything to lead them to a solution, Viktor found a spot deep in the forest by a stream where the gurgling water could hush the world out in a swift sweep of its sound. He sought deep into his mind.

He waded through the darkness, focused on his single intent for help, a lead, anything - and finally a current of energy caught him and he let it sweep him away until the world through his mind's eye flashed bright. He felt ground beneath his mental body’s feet; Viktor was in a place he didn't recognize.

He searched it, walking hazy streets like a dream. It felt empty, barren, practically without magic, but Viktor thought maybe he just needed to be there to feel it.

After that, he returned over and over for weeks, searching for his answer. The answer the forest seemed to believe would save them. If only he could find a way to know where he was. A name, location, anything.

And then Phichit, who'd delivered the news ever since he was small and first appeared in Clarusilva, mentioned where he was from in passing.

"I sure hope my hometown isn't affected by the poisoned sea," he said, staring glumly at the front of a paper. The headline that day was about dead fish floating the surface, making easy prey for birds that dropped dead soon after feeding. Phichit smiled fondly in remembrance. "How I miss Hasetsu."

The name swept over Viktor like a wave that had merely been waiting to break. It felt so familiar, like all the other waves that had come before it. Of course!

Yakov was mortified to learn Viktor's imaginary place - which had been keeping Viktor quite entertained and out of the way - had grounding in the real world.

He'd badgered Phichit after that, but Phichit insisted Hasetsu was a small fishing town. He was rather adamant Viktor not even consider dragging them into Clarusilva's issues.

But Viktor went that night. And it felt magicless and bland just as in his mind. Still he searched, imagining uncovering some tome encrusted in years’ old dust in a forgotten wizard's basement, or some incantation inscribed in stone in an alley that these people had long forgotten the purpose of. But there was nothing.

Viktor visited and searched and his friends made fun of him for being so obsessed but Viktor shook his head and rolled his eyes, brushed their comments off.  

Their accusations weren't completely wrong. Viktor was madly in love with whatever would save them - he knew when he found it, the realization of its use as a tool in their battle would flood him and he'd know they were saved.

Sometimes he felt it: a small ripple spreading through the little town, a practically unnoticeable wave in their pond. But then it was gone and Viktor may have imagined it.

But finally he found Yuuri. Wide-eyed and horrified, virgin to magic and anything like the world Viktor was from. And Viktor knew Yuuri was the key after all this time, but he was... human.

After all this time, his search for a something had been for a someone.

And that changed everything.

 

* * *

 

 

The trudge through the forest was full of despair for everyone. Viktor wished they could just transport themselves to the other side like they could across the ocean. But the forest was thick and full of magic different from the ocean and even if Viktor wasn’t drained from fleeing Yuuri, he still wouldn’t have had the strength.

He didn’t enjoy seeing the destruction of Vavara’s curse. It was like nothing he’d seen before. He wanted to believe the trees were strong enough to not be defeated; their massive trunks stood so firmly and reached toward the sunlight; their roots sealed them into the ground, stretching through decades of earth.

However it didn’t seem they could stave off whatever ailment they had much longer.

Viktor was relieved to make it to Clarufretus.

He and Chris emerged in the spot discussed, and Yuri and Mila were there waiting.

“Some others have gone ahead; we should have a mostly clear path for a bit,” Mila said. Her eyes scanned around them and then back into the forest they’d stepped out of. “Where’s Yuuri?”

“Let’s go,” Viktor pointedly ignored her. Yuri stepped in front of him.

“Where is he?” he asked, eyes narrowed and looking behind Viktor as if still expecting Yuuri might emerge.

Chris answered for him: “Viktor decided it was best Yuuri didn’t come with us.”

“You left him _behind_?”  

Viktor stared over Yuri’s head, eyes narrowed to mock a demeanor of deep concentration. “No point in discussing this now.” He stalked past everyone.

“No, Viktor, this is stupid,” Yuri paced beside him. “Like I don’t care about your stupid feelings for him or whatever. He was a vital part of our plan.”

The Amorglaci Castle loomed in the distance, standing over the other buildings, a strong, intimidating warning to outsiders despite its centric placement in the city. Light was dimming around them as clouds drifted in. Hopefully it wouldn’t rain. Idly Viktor wished he’d thought to bring the rain pendant Yakov had – it was a small trinket infused with light magic, but it was perfect for predicting rain.

“We will be fine, I’m sure,” Mila spoke up, voice a little too high to be convincing. But it was true, they would be, and Viktor didn’t want to think about his decision anymore.

It may have been a little impulsive to leave Yuuri behind – but Yuuri had shown that in the heat of the moment he was bound to throwing himself into danger. The way he’d taken off days previous, unprotected as Clarufretus raided their city. Yuuri’s words that he’d witnessed someone die had haunted Viktor. Yuuri had been centimeters from death.

“Look out!” Yuri shouted. A torrent of magic whipped in front of Viktor as Yuri’s barricade formed around their group; something shot from the distance with a crack and ricocheted off the barrier. Viktor blinked, belatedly processing the situation. They’d just been attacked, and he was already showing to be too distracted.

Mentally he pushed his jumble of thoughts about Yuuri away and down, locked them tight – later, he’d fix everything. Today would solve all their problems.

Yuri’s barrier shimmered away and Viktor saw the culprit: up ahead someone had just ducked behind a small building, their attack having failed.

“No you don’t,” Mila muttered and flung her hands before her. The person yelped and they were dragged out, their limbs in Mila’s control.

The rifle they’d shot fell from their grasp as Mila pried open their hand. Viktor threw a hand out to stop it from hitting the ground and firing and pulled it toward them. He didn’t know how to use one of them or what could be done to properly disable it, so he broke it in half a flick of his wrist and dropped the pieces.

Chris stepped closer to the person twitching in midair, eyes darting between the group in terror. “You’ll be okay,” Chris told the person, and then he whispered something. The person’s eyes fluttered shut and their head drooped forward, body limp like they'd been turned into a doll. Mila gently set them on the ground.

“They’ll be out for a day,” Chris said with a pleased smirk.

“Okay but what about all that crap about Yuuri being the thing to save us all?” Yuri jumped right back into arguing.

Viktor sighed in frustration. He _needed_ to not think about it right now. “That’s just it. Yuuri isn’t a – a thing. I don’t know about that anymore. I don’t want to keep dragging him into danger thinking he’s going prove some far-fetched prophecy I once saw.”

“Okay,” Mila said, putting a finger up. “Not to take sides, but Viktor, you were really adamant back then that there was something out there that could help. And _if_ _it’s Yuuri_ –“

“We need to focus, unfortunately,” Chris interrupted. “Something is coming.”

They listened and heard it, the familiarity clawing deep into them and pulling out their own respective, awful memories of the last time the sound had soared overhead. The planes.

They were still on the outskirts of the city; they knew several battles were being fought farther north at the fringes of the forest. Those battles were meant as distractions as their group invaded the castle.

But they weren’t far enough into the city to keep them protected from the bombs dropped from planes.

“Get ready,” Yuri muttered through clenched teeth. He shot a glance at Viktor that asked silently if Viktor was present and focused, his mind not back on the other side of the forest where Yuuri remained.

Viktor nodded. Of course he was ready.

The plane roared overhead, high above but still alarmingly close for a machine in the sky. Viktor saw the moment something fell from it and the machine twisted in the air to fly quickly away from the danger it was dropping upon them.

“Now!” Viktor yelled; together, he and Yuri formed a shield above them. Viktor pressed it outward as fiercely as he could and he felt Yuri do the same; though he was so young, his magic was confident and strong and rivaled Viktor’s own. Yuri pushed their protection outward and Viktor felt he was almost not needed. Next to them, Chris and Mila pressed closer to them to stay under the shield.

The drop of the bomb felt like a house falling over them. Viktor’s arm kicked back, his shoulders aching in protest of the sudden weight on them. The explosion erupted above in a wave of flames and smoke and sound – and then it was gone and their ears were left ringing, their eyes seeing spots. But they’d protected themselves.

 

* * *

 

 

Yuuri didn't know anything about magic. Viktor always thought when he finally found the answer waiting for him in Hasetsu, he would immediately be able to implement it to win the war. But Yuuri was a human and needed time to adjust and understand their world, to grow comfortable as a participant - to even decide to be one, without force. Yuuri deciding to stay shut everyone up for a while about whether or not he was the answer behind Viktor's _silly premonitions_. But Yuuri never showed signs that he understood anything more than what he was told, and he'd never even encountered his own magic before.

Viktor tried to leave him alone and see if he would blossom into their answer.

Then he took him into the forest and Yuuri showed signs that there was something more within him. Something lying dormant. Viktor wanted to understand it, but Yuuri was still human and overcome with emotions and insecurities and Viktor couldn't push him. So he decided to be patient and wait and treat Yuuri less like the thing with the answer to their victory and more like a person who wanted to help them.

Yuuri went from being the entity that spurred his hope to the person who stirred his heart.

He knew he was infatuated with the mysterious key to victory. And then he’d found Yuuri and was infatuated with the secrets he must harbor.

Yuuri’s hair fluttered in the wind like raven’s feathers, and his cheeks tinged in pleasant strokes of pinks and reds. His eyes were warm and soft and always cast downward, but in fierce, unexpected moments they could strike with a confident grace and pierce straight into Viktor’s heart.

Viktor had gotten tangled in the nudge of Yuuri’s glasses up his nose, in the nervous twist of his fingers.

In the forest that first time, Yuuri had settled like dust. Had drifted down at last into Viktor’s world, had placed himself among the magic and roots of those protective trees.

Viktor had tried to meditate but he could only feel the presence of the person across him, Yuuri’s eyes on him and the strange shift of energy that surrounded Yuuri and churned the earth. It’d touched Viktor, a warm beam of sunlight cutting through the forest.

He wasn’t able to decipher what it meant – what any of Yuuri’s tendrils of magic spiraling from him meant as they took hold of the world around them and bent it to Yuuri’s unconscious will.

Viktor’s eyes had opened and he’d caught Yuuri staring at him and his heart spun in his chest – and he’d known then he was lost.

He almost told Yuuri everything that day. Twice. The first time, he’d given up. The second time, Yuuri shut him out.

His lack of understanding of Yuuri’s feelings did little to rival the new conflict building inside of him, for Viktor was excited to see what Yuuri would be capable of. But less and less did he want to focus on that, and more and more did he want to focus on… just Yuuri.

And so Viktor began looking over the horizon, over the events to come, and dreaming of a time after the war, no matter the events in between.

 

* * *

 

 

It’d been so long since Viktor had walked through Clarufretus. The two cities truly were different. Clarufretus’s buildings were built taller with wider windows – where Clarusilva had buildings of brick and stone, Clarufretus had steel, and their streets were paved with concrete instead of cobblestone.

It seemed the citizens had either evacuated to elsewhere in the city or retreated inside closed-up buildings. It felt like a ghost town.

But still, their group stuck to the sides of buildings when they could. Yuri insisted on putting up an invisibility veil around them, but Viktor asserted he save his energy.

Behind them, where the forest was, they heard loud bangs; they could only hope things were going well for the others.

It happened fast. Michele stepped out from behind a building to call them over to where Seung-Gil was supposed to be waiting with him. There was another one of those dreadful cracks of gunfire, then Michele crumpled to the ground.

Two shrieks, one from him and one from the culprit as Mila dragged him from the window of a building, limbs flailing until she tightened her hands before her and the person was locked into place in the air. She pulled the person forward, eyes flared with anger. And then more poured out into the streets.

Yuri was throwing up a barrier and then Viktor was ripping guns from the hands of people and tossing them into the distance, no longer bothering to break them. Some he felt were riddled with dark enchantments to allow them to blow through magic, and he knew they were lucky that he’d grabbed them in time. Mila tripped the soldiers onto the ground as Chris knocked them unconscious.

When every last person was taken down, a stony moment of silence rung out – the group waited, trembling, for another ambush. Seung-Gil had appeared from the hiding place and was crouched over Michele.

When the battle didn’t resurface, the group rushed toward Michele.

“It’s just- just my leg,” Michele told them through gritted teeth.

“I’m taking him to Sara,” Mila said quickly.

“No Mila,” Michele started to protest. “You’re needed here with – with everyone. I can wait.”

Seung-Gil stood again and his eyes panned to the heap of unconscious soldiers. He muttered, trance-like, “I’m sorry. I don’t know – I wish I could have helped.”

Mila tried to lift Michele to his feet but his leg immediately buckled beneath him, accompanied with a cry of pain. He tried to protest her attention again, but she ignored him. She took a step back and focused away her rage with several deep breaths. Slowly, she lifted him into the air. He hovered, wincing and biting his bottom lip. Viktor saw where his leg wound was, where a hole was in his pants and blood had seeped outwards, staining the fabric.

“We’re going,” Mila declared and began to walk, carefully. The others nodded solemn agreements, and Viktor cleared his throat and thought to advise, “Go the way we came.”

She nodded.

“Let’s go,” Viktor said to the remaining group. The hopeful light had been shunted in his team’s eyes and replace with dark reality. But they needed direction more than ever.

They were nearing the castle.

 

* * *

 

 

At the victory party Yuuri had given Viktor hope his feelings were returned. Perhaps, when the war was over, Yuuri would have reason to stay beyond aiding his home town. Viktor could only hope.

Viktor would love to live in a world with Yuuri that wasn’t defined by a war, where most of their waking moments were not shaped by planning and plotting and training. Often Viktor imagined a life where Yakov would truly rest in his old age, where little Yuri could actually be a kid, where the friends he had could live their lives unmarred by fear that within weeks, months, years, they would no longer have a home.

 

* * *

 

 

These thoughts motivated Viktor to press on despite his concern for Michele and for the other Clarusilva soldiers battling for them on the edges of the city.

Their group hid behind the corner of a building that stood before the castle. It was guarded, but when Chris tried to whisper his typical spell of sleep, nothing happened.

“They’re protected,” he said.

Viktor bit at his lower lip, pondering the safest way to get rid of the guards.

“We could just attack them,” Yuri offered.

“No, it’s too risky,” Chris said.

Viktor wished he’d thought to bring stunning powder with him. It would carry easily through the air with Yuri directing the breeze.

“This, then,” Yuri whispered. He was eyeing the side of the castle, rubbing his hands together before whispering a spell, a sly smirk on his face.

A messy mirage of a person rose from the dust in the corner Yuri’s eyes were on. He let it drift back and forth for a moment until one of the guards noticed and shouted something. Then he let the dust fall; the sediments rose in a cloud before beginning to settle again, but the tiny illusion seemed to work. It looked like someone had been standing there and merely scrambled away. The two guards chased toward it and turned the corner of the castle.

“We only have a few seconds,” Viktor said quickly. The group ran toward the castle doors; once there, Viktor focused on feeling the lock. His specialty was deception and tricks, and magically picking locks was something he loved doing but didn’t have the opportunity to meddle with often.

He mentally felt the spindles and holes of the lock, the intricate maneuvers a key would have to go through to open it, and he pressed magic into it, willing energy to find the right patterns at the right times to unlock the door. There was a resounding, satisfying click, and then he used magic to pull the heavy doors back. They were in.

“Now is time for your invisibility veil,” Chris commented to Yuri and Viktor couldn’t argue. There would surely be many people milling about the castle and their numbers were weakened without Mila and Michele. It would be easiest to merely stay out of sight.

Yuri didn’t argue with the opportunity to show off his skills. He easily blanketed them in a shimmering bubble.

“Sounds from us will be muffled but not completely silenced,” he warned.

“Seung-Gil, can you lead the way?” Viktor asked. It was only then that a look of confusion crossed Seung-Gil’s face.

“Where’s Yuuri?”

“I –“ Viktor started but was surprisingly interrupted.

“Long story,” Yuri said. “So where to first?”

They crept through the castle, sneaking past several patrol officers and staff members bustling about with news. Seung-Gil was hesitant to lead them for some reason, but he did so anyway, crumpled map in his hands.

The wing with the bedrooms was a long, well-lit corridor. A row of chandeliers hung along the high ceiling to light the way, and the walls were draped with tapestries of the royal family crest between pictures of kings and queens of the past.

Their eyes silently fell upon the portrait at the end of the hall with the King and Vavara. Queen Vavara.

No one said anything, but Viktor knew they were taking in the sight to brace themselves for laying eyes on her in person.

“I’m sure she’s in here,” Seung-Gil whispered. “I’ve been hiding outside the castle for hours now and I haven’t seen her leave.”

At the door, they all stood motionless. Yuri let the veil of invisibility melt away.

Were they just going to knock?

Viktor wondered if she could already feel their presence outside her door, their weight pulling down on the web of treachery she’d spread around herself.

If she knew they were there, then she may be preparing to attack; the longer they waited, the stronger her defense would grow.

Without warning the others, Viktor twisted the knob of the door and burst into the room.

The royal bedroom was lavish and grand. The floor was covered in wooly carpet dyed a pale lavendar. A large bed was in the center of the room, its interior hidden by a deeply purple canopy draped around its sides. The walls of the room were filled with royal emblems and seals and paintings of the royal family and Amorglaci; Viktor ironically noticed one portrait held a view of the forest meeting the sea.

Dim light shone from a lone window, its glass panes parted to let the air in.

There was no sight of Vavara, but the room was not without company. The cushioned chair faced the window - within in sat the King.

He hadn't seemed to notice the group had barged inside his domain. The King stared out the window, eyes glazed and lifeless. He watched the outside world with forlorn depth in his eyes, yet he still didn’t move.

"Where is she?" Yuri strut forward.

The King didn't speak.

"She isn't here," Seung-Gil stated quietly.

Viktor stared around the voided room as if he might find a clue within it. It was hopeless, of course, but still he hoped for some sort of breadcrumb trail.

Chris spoke up, "Maybe we can interrogate someone in the castle."

"No," Yuri spat with a fierce shake of his head. "He can tell us!" He approached the King. "Where did she GO?"

A moment of silence spun out into the room, and then it was followed by laughter. The King was laughing: he laughed a shrill, manic laugh, as if someone had just cracked the most insane and fabulous joke. Yuri gaped at him and leaned away in disgust.

Abruptly the King's laughter ceased. He sighed and went silent again.

"He's not here," Viktor told Yuri.

"Obviously not." Yuri turned on Chris. "Is there anything you can do? Snap him out of it?"

Chris was already observing the King with a keen eye. He shook his head. "Vavara has his hex tied to something else. Something evil. I can't do anything."

Yuri threw his hands into the air and let out a mangled yell. "What do we DO then? We have to find her but where would she be?"

"I'm sorry," Seung-Gil managed from where he still stood in the doorway. "I thought she'd be here."

"Would she be fighting?" Viktor tried.

Seung-Gil's eyes fell toward the ground, narrowed in thought. "I - I've just never ever known her to join the fight. She's always just stayed locked inside the castle. I thought..."

"I bet if Yuuri were here he'd have an idea," Yuri grumbled with crossed arms. His eyes stayed glaring at the King.

Viktor ignored him. "She could be hiding. Where would she hide, Seung-Gil?"

Seung-Gil didn't seem to have an answer for that. Viktor could see the weight of the situation collecting on his shoulders, the feeling of failure threatening to crush him. He was good at staying composed - but Viktor needed him to think. They all needed to think. Because this couldn't just end here with another battle that didn't bring an end to all the evil.

Yuri bore holes into the King with his vision. Chris glanced warily between the two. Seung-Gil's eyes darted around the room as if Vavara would still appear. The King breathed deeply, lonely and frozen.

The room grew a shade darker as the clouds outside pulled themselves together.

What were they to do?

If Viktor was being honest - he was tired. He was ready for this to be over because despite the pain and horror it had brought recently, his entire life had been defined by this war. He couldn't imagine a life beyond it, and that notion terrified him. Everything he'd done for years, every person he'd talked to, there'd been a purpose tied to them that related to Amorglaci. Viktor had unintentionally sold his soul to the Kingdom. He woke every day in fear he'd never have it back.

To have a life beyond this - a city to live within in peace.

The guilt he'd been trying to suppress simmered inside him: he shouldn't have left Yuuri. It was impulsive and in the moment he felt victorious and so sure he would come into the castle today and end things. But they needed Yuuri's mind, his sharp wit that broke through tensions and confusions when everyone least expected it.

What was Yuuri doing now? Madly pacing the house? Hating Viktor with wild abandon? Staring down the edge of the forest wondering how to reach Clarufretus safely?

Oh - Viktor hoped Yuuri wouldn't try anything reckless. He hoped Yuuri was intelligent enough to not try to be a lone soldier tearing through the streets; doing so in Clarusilva had been one thing. But being alone in the enemy city was an entirely different matter.

His heart ached for him. Viktor stared past the King's head and out the window, wondering if there was a way to contact Yuuri. To bring him afterall. To apologize for being selfish in the moment and probably making Yuuri think he didn't believe in him. Viktor didn't know how to handle his feelings when the war was involved. Yuuri was the prophecy he'd sought for so long, but Viktor didn't want Yuuri to be that. The idea made it seem like Yuuri would disappear once the war was over and the thought made Viktor's heart cold, made his insides a desolate winterscape.

Viktor wanted to find Vavara right now to end the war so that he could see Yuuri still standing there at the end of the day, not faded, not just an elusive prophecy. But someone who would - maybe, if Viktor was lucky - decide to stay with him. For just a while.

He wondered if - of all the paths he took that led him to finding Yuuri - there would have been one where he didn't fall in love.

He hoped not.

And then the world changed.

At first Viktor thought the first snap of lighting of a storm was about to strike. The air turned sharp and clean. But it rippled with something else, the air visibly shimmering as a wave of energy passed through from some distant epicenter.

Then the atmosphere went thick of magic and energies that Viktor hadn't noticed before - no, it wasn't that he hadn't noticed, but as if the world's magic was being pulled to life and stirred around like the earth was a bowl of magical ingredients and someone was mixing it, stirring it, reshaping its components. It was dizzying because they were caught up in the mixture, feeling the world meld around them.

And then it settled - but something still felt altered, changed; Viktor couldn't detect exactly what it was, but then there was a cry.

The King rose from the chair, hands on his head as if holding in a pounding headache. He was muttering something, a string of dark-sounding words that flowed past them all as they stood stunned, confused.

Then his head turned to take them all in and his eyes were aflame with a wild fury.

Darkly, he demanded, "Where is she?"

Yuri was staring at his hands. Chris was gaping at the King, eyes wide and taking in the scene.

"Chris," Viktor prodded because he needed Chris to tell them what he saw.

Chris's head turned to Viktor but his eyes didn't move from the King. "He's - it's gone."

Yuri’s hands clenched to fists. He looked up, at the King, then around the room, eyes wild and unseeing. “What- what is this?”

Viktor felt it too, perhaps not as strongly as Yuri just like he couldn’t see into people the way Chris could. But he still felt it – the air had stilled, but energy still flowed – it wasn’t chaotic, but instead felt full of intent. A current, like in the sea, pulled by forces invisible to the eye, but present, and they altered the entire flow of water.

The entire flow of magic was being changed.

"I need you all to leave," the King said, and he straightened up. He was visibly shaking, but he stood tall and looked down at them all with importance. "I don't know what has happened but I must find that witch."

His eyes took in Viktor then. "I know you," he declared with narrowed eyes. "I -" His mouth hug open as he searched for words. What must it be like to wake up from a cursed hypnosis? Viktor couldn't imagine.

And what did this mean?

Finally the King shook his head and muttered, "I don't know how much time I have," and he flew from the room. They heard him storm down the hall, yelling for attendants.

"What's happened?" Seung-Gil asked.

Yuri was staring at his hands with wide eyes. "Something..." he murmured. He looked toward the window. "Something's out there."

Deep in the castle people were beginning to yell. The streets were filling with a clamour too, the sounds rising to the window from far below.

"We need to go," Viktor said.

The castle was suddenly bustling with people all yelling different things; some yelled about Vavara, others about the King waking up. No one bothered them as they hurried their way out.

When they re-entered the streets of Clarufretus, they were met with something unexpected.

People were beginning to flood the streets - at first it seemed like a mob and Viktor's heart lurched in panic to imagine them having to fend off crowds of rabid citizens.

But then people were crying, hugging, shouting, spinning each other around.

They were celebrating. Melodies carried of songs that Viktor recognized to be about victory and revolution.

"Otabek!" Yuri yelled suddenly.

The familiar dark-haired boy's face turned away from the crowd. His expression opened in shock as he took in their group and he broke away from the people he was gathered with to run toward them.

"Yuri?!”

Immediately, Yuri demanded, "What's going on?"

"It's over," Otabek said; the mere words rolled forth like some legendary tale.

"What the hell? How?" Yuri asked in disbelief.

Otabek shrugged. "I don't know. I don't -" he looked around at the still-gathering crowds. "We were fighting at the forest and suddenly the air changed and the Clarufretus soldiers dropped their weapons and - and they fell to their knees."

"This doesn't make sense," Viktor said. He wanted to be happy. Wanted to be overjoyed - but where was Vavara? Nothing happening made sense.

"We don't know. Most of Clarufretus is confused too. But apparently all her curses have been lifted."

"How is that possible?" Chris asked.

Otabek stared at them a moment, silent. Then he slowly said, "I assumed you guys actually brought her down."

"We can't find her," Yuri said.

"I don't get it." Seung-Gil shook his head. "Were my people - cursed too? Like the King?"

"Viktor," Yuri said quickly. "Look."

Yuri had conjured a basic sphere of light. It drifted on its own away from Yuri until he pulled it back. It only drifted again.

Now that Viktor was seeing it, he could feel it more, too. There was a slight magnetic pull in the air. Viktor felt magic bend toward it gently.

"Let's follow it," he suggested.

Seung-Gil cleared his throat. "I'm going to stay here and try to figure some things out. I'll catch up with you all later."

Seung-Gil disappeared into the crowds of people.

“Let me come with you guys,” Otabek said. “I won’t get in your way.”

“Yeah, he’ll be fine,” Yuri jumped to his defense, but Viktor’s mind was far from caring who joined them. They just needed to figure this out.

They made their way through the city, following Yuri's wavering ball of light. They passed citizens rushing past, calling names and shouting rejoice. Not everyone seemed to understand what was happening, but were at least roused by the excitement and understanding that something was undone.

The clouds that had been swelling finally burst as they arrived at the forest. Sound was cut off as water crashed to the ground in a steady rush.  

They may have taken shelter or cast a spell to keep themselves dry, but someone was emerging from the trees. The sound of rain filling their ears made the whole scene seem slow. Chris yelled something, Otabek too, but their voices sounded far away.

Because there she was. For some reason, Viktor didn’t feel surprised.

Vavara walked out, arm draped around a smaller person wrapped in blankets that leaned against her side.

"Vavara!" Viktor shouted, but his voice was drowned out.

Yuri's ball of light dissipated at once; Viktor felt the drag in the air as Yuri pulled magic around him, preparing for an attack.

A soldier rushed past. Then another.

They were from Clarufretus and had long rifles aimed at Vavara.

They pointed them at her and their nerves were practically tangible, but one of them hollered through the storm, "Vavara, on the ground! You are under arrest for treason against the Kingdom of the highest tier."

Her eyes lifted lazily to them as if she could hardly be bothered to care. She may not have even heard them beyond a muddled yelling. But then she saw Viktor and her eyes widened. "Nikiforov!" she gasped and quickly made to step toward him. Rain streamed down her face, but her eyes were bloodshot and Viktor thought perhaps some streaks of water were tears.

"Back!" one of the soldiers yelled, but she ignored them.

"He's in the forest - I couldn't do anything else but -" Lighting flashed and thunder cut through her words, but Viktor heard enough. His heart twisted around in his chest, dragging all its ventricles around and knotting them. "Who?" he asked over a rising lump in his throat.

"Yuuri."

"What?" Yuri yelled. Wet hair wrapped around his face, and the rain twisted around him in a whirlwind. He looked about to charge Vavara, but suddenly Otabek grabbed his wrist and said something Viktor couldn’t hear.

"Vavara, you -" one of the soldiers started.

"Wait." Viktor held Vavara's eyes. Her shoulders were slumped. This was not the meeting he'd envisioned.

Water bled into his eyes and he blinked it away as he walked toward her.

"Wizard Nikiforov," one of the soldiers gasped. They both stepped aside.

The raindrops froze around them. From behind him, Viktor could feel Yuri's hold on them, his grasp on each drop firm as he stilled the world to allow a moment's peace for Viktor to finally speak with the woman behind everything.

But suddenly all he wanted to know had nothing to do with the Amorglaci.

"What did you do to Yuuri?" he asked her slowly, each word dropping in front of her like stones.

He walked through the stilled droplets; they clung to his skin and clothes like cool sweat.

Vavara was short but Viktor could tell she may have once been intimidating. But none of that viciousness seemed left in her, though she didn't back away from him when he stopped in front of her.

"I haven't done anything to him." The person against her side whimpered lightly and Vavara pulled her gaze from Viktor to lay across whoever she held, and Viktor realized it was a young girl.

"I don't have time to explain," Vavara said. "I need to take her back."

Yuri cursed from behind them. The raindrops were beginning to drag toward the forest, just like the ball of light had. Yuri struggled to pull them still again.

Vavara stared at the drops before her, eyes focusing and unfocusing as they flickered between them. She seemed suddenly fearful. "Something is wrong with him though. It's not..." Her eyes glanced to the girl in her arms and then back to Viktor. "Just follow the pull of magic. You'll find him. I tried to protect him."

Viktor shook his head; Vavara - protected him?

_What had Yuuri done?_

Vavara's gaze switched to the soldiers. "I'll go under arrest peacefully, but please, this girl needs to see a doctor."

Viktor threw a gaze at the soldiers; they stood motionless, staring at Viktor as if awaiting orders. Viktor gave them a reassuring nod, but said, "Find a man named Seung-Gil. Let him speak with Vavara and ask him to come to Clarusilva as soon as he can."

The soldiers nodded with wide eyes before taking hold of Vavara and the girl.

Before they completely pulled her away, she twisted her head back and spoke several final words: "Please tell him I said thank you."

Viktor watched her taken away, speechless. Yuri released his hold on the rain and the world showered down.

 

* * *

 

 

They re-conjured the ball of light to follow, but as they walked deeper into the forest, the pull became stronger and soon they didn't need it. It felt like a graceless breeze, blowing past but not brushing against the leaves of trees or carrying the air. It itched against Viktor's skin like a needy pull, and his heart raced as questions hurled themselves around his head at what they would find at the end of the invisible trail.

His stomach felt hollow. If something bad had happened - it was his fault. He'd made Yuuri stay behind.

But there was another side to this story, maybe.

Viktor had seen the idea flash in Chris and Yuri's eyes earlier. It was there a moment, then quickly covered up with guilty haste when Viktor looked their way. Because they knew how Viktor felt about Yuuri now - they must know. But he'd been right. They knew Viktor had been right - Yuuri did something and suddenly everything was over.

_It was over._

The rain poured over the canopies of the trees above their heads but the water was only leaky drips by the time it reached them far below.

The corruption of the forest was lifting away. Some trees no longer showed the black tendrils of ailment creeping up them, and others that still bore evidence of the corruption were actively gaining their strength back, the thick tendrils becoming weak veins and retreating slowly before their eyes.

Viktor felt the strength of the forest begin to build already; it was like the pulse of blood beneath a bruise.

But the pull on magic was still prominent, and the forest’s energy seemed to be rebuilding around it, shaping itself to accommodate the force like an obstruction in the growth of a trunk.

Viktor's breath caught when he finally saw Yuuri.

He was laying on the forest floor before a massive but dead tree, nestled in a grove of even deader flowers. His chest rose and fell; Viktor sighed heavily in relief he didn't know he needed to feel.

Viktor wanted to rush to his side, but he held back. A shimmering veil covered Yuuri. Protection.

Vavara had mentioned this - but why?

"What did that hag do?" Yuri grumbled and shot a stream of magic toward the veil to break it.

"WAIT!" Chris grabbed Yuri by the shoulder and pulled him back. His magic veered off its intended course but managed to still hit Vavara's protection spell.

It was like a drain had been unplugged in the earth and the entire world was trying to spiral into it. Viktor was almost knocked off his feet by the force; the trees in the vicinity creaked and groaned as their energies were pulled inward - toward Yuuri.

A foggy revelation slammed into Viktor: Yuuri wasn't being protected from something. Something - _everything_ was being protected from _him_.

Viktor took a deep breath and borrowed from the flow of magic dragging toward Yuuri and blew up another shield spell around him.

Everything muted again, but it was unsteady, and Viktor’s barrier trembled.

"This is bad," Chris gasped. "I can't even explain what I'm seeing."

"I'm sorry, I didn't know," Yuri said, voice shaking. He stared at Yuuri in constrained horror.

Viktor was on his knees beside Yuuri. His glasses were askew on his face and his breathing was slightly ragged, but he could have been merely having a nightmare. His hair was wet and mussed by rain, cheeks tinged pink with chill. Viktor's heart wept; Yuuri was so beautiful. How had Viktor almost lost the chance to tell him that?

And now what happened to him? Because he was alive and here, but he was changed. Perhaps he wouldn't ever wake up.

A pit was opening in Viktor's stomach: it threatened to collapse him like the world had tried to around Yuuri.

He still didn't know what had happened. But he knew, without a doubt, nothing was going to be the same.

 

* * *

 

 

Seung-Gil’s knock on the door had brought hope: they could finally get some answers. He was accompanied by Otabek, and they shared what they’d learned from Vavara and other citizens. The tale of Vavara and her sister filled the room with silence.

And then more – about how she’d hexed weapons to brainwash soldiers, how she’d laced the city in a small hexes that convinced them everything Clarufretus did was righteous. Seung-Gil gathered he must have escaped the effects by spending so much time in the interior of the forest. He regretted the worst of her curses were under his nose and still he never knew.

But they were all blameless because no one had known.

Phichit came too, declaring without asking that he would stay with them all and help in whatever ways possible. When Phichit turned his eyes down to Yuuri, Viktor recognized heartbreak similar to his own mirrored in the tautness of Phichit's expression and the hollow space in his eyes. 

Their group sat in dozing silence until Yuuri’s eyes fluttered open and the world twisted toward him. As Yuri pushed back against the force, Viktor grabbed Yuuri’s hand.

“Yuuri,” he gasped.

Yuuri blinked a few times, eyes hazy. Then they focused on Viktor. He smiled pleasantly, innocently, cluelessly. Viktor’s heart hurt.

And then his eyes blew wide as memories flooded and he pushed himself up.  “Wait!” Yuuri gasped, looking around in a panic. The air tightened and Yuri strained against the force as Yuuri stared at his hands and said, “What happened to me? Am I okay?” He winced as he asked. “I don’t feel right –“

“Calm down,” Viktor tried, forcing a smile. “Yuuri, you’re – I’m glad you’re okay,” he said weakly.

Yuuri looked from Viktor to Yuri, struggling against magic, and the others, staring wide-eyed and wary.

His eyes fell to Viktor again. “Am I?” he asked.

Viktor gripped Yuuri’s hand tighter. Yuuri glanced down but his eyes panned up to Viktor’s again. Wide and brown and concerned. Waiting for an answer.

“What do you remember?”

Yuuri recounted the story well enough that his memory was obviously unaffected: he told them how he’d found Vavara, learned her story, and then realized he could take the magic from the cursed sister. He hadn’t known what would happen. And then he said, “But now I feel wrong. Like, a pressure on my chest but it’s spread to my entire body.”

Viktor lowered his eyes to where he held one of Yuuri’s hands still. The notion of what Yuuri had done for them was overwhelming. Unprecedented and unexpected and - unfair. He paid a price that everyone else should have to bear, for it was their Kingdom and the war they’d fought for years. Viktor dragged Yuuri into and - prophecy or none, he felt he’d been in control of the choices he’d made. Twists and turns in their path weren’t a product of some omnipotent fate. Right?

“Yuuri,” Viktor whispered, and his voice was sad. “I’m sorry I left you behind.”

Yuuri shook his head. “It worked though. I did it, right?”

They tried to explain his condition to him. That he seemed to have broken something within himself, torn away his protection to leave him exposed and magnetic, a force of magic none of them had ever witnessed before.

“I think you would have been a powerful wizard, Yuuri,” Chris commented. “But your magic needed a different approach. But now it’s – opposite.”

“I can learn again,” Yuuri whispered. He stared at his feet. “I can. But I’m sorry I’m… a burden now. More than ever.”

Viktor’s arms were around Yuuri fast. He felt the strange pull into Yuuri that felt like something trying to eat him, but he didn't let it faze him. Because this was still Yuuri and none of that mattered; Yuuri froze at first, but then he softened; Viktor said, “Yuuri, you’ve never been a burden and you never will be. You saved us all."

Yuuri melted beneath him. Hugged him back. For a moment, the strange pull in the air was gone. Yuri relaxed a little, the fight going out of the space around them. It continued to ebb back as Yuuri rested his head on Viktor’s shoulder.

“I’m just… so relieved it’s over,” Yuuri whispered. Exhaustion swept over his tone, his muscles loosening more against where they touched. Was Yuuri losing consciousness already?

Viktor backed away, holding only Yuuri still. He looked him in the eyes, cupped his cheek. Still so cold from the rain - “Yuuri, are you okay?”

But Yuuri seemed stirred by Viktor’s touch, eyes brightening. “I am, I’m just really… tired.”

“Let’s get you to bed.”

Yuuri nodded, and the others around them automatically backed away to give them space as Viktor helped Yuuri to his feet. Yuuri leaned heavily against Viktor, shivering slightly. Viktor frowned, hoping he wouldn’t get sick along with his new… condition. Makkachin nudged Yuuri’s leg, and Yuuri warmly smiled down at her.

Yuri stood nearby them, his shield snugly around Viktor and Yuuri both. Viktor nodded to him. Yuri barely noticed; instead, he watched Yuuri, his stormy eyes heavy with thought.

Yuri followed them down the hall, and it wasn’t until they reached Yuuri’s room that he seemed to grow more alert. He twisted around in Viktor’s arms to look back at Yuri, brows furrowing as if he’d only just registered him there. Then he stiffened.

“Wait,” he said. Viktor made to move away from him, to let go and give him space, but Yuuri’s feet were unsteady and he clung to Viktor. But he continued, “Is Yuri protecting me?”

“It’s… something like that,” Viktor explained. “But don’t-”

“Oh no.” Yuuri shook his head, hands balled in fists.

“What is it?”

“I just… didn’t realize. It must be really bad then.”

Viktor felt Yuuri snug against him, but also the way his presence was tangibly twisting the energy in their small bubble of protection. He tried to ignore it, but it had him clenching his teeth in an effort to not be thwarted or tripped as they walked.

Without any protection it was… massively amplified, and the concern over that weighed over them all. But it wasn’t Yuuri’s burden to bear alone.

“We are going to help you,” Viktor said.

Yuri finally spoke, too: “I’ll stay up all night so you can sleep, and tomorrow we will begin figuring everything out.”

Yuuri pulled away from Viktor; he stumbled against the door, propping himself up against it before Viktor could reach out and catch him, but Yuuri put a protective hand in front of him. “Just wait,” he said. He nudged his glasses up his nose with a trembling hand and Viktor’s heart cried. He wanted to take Yuuri into his arm and protect him forevermore, but Yuuri had to want that, too.

“Drop the barrier, Yuri,” Yuuri said.

Viktor’s words tangled in his mouth, but Yuri argued, “But you’ll -”

_“I need to know.”_

Silence rung out, stilted and slow. No one spoke in the other room, and with an unjustified flash of anger, Viktor understood they were listening to them.

Without warning, Yuri let the barrier drop.

Maybe it was because there were so many enchanted objects in the house, so much magic from all the wizards inhabiting there, but Viktor swore he heard the house creek. Items in the living room audibly clattered to the ground, and the air went cold and scathing as it torrented toward Yuuri.

Yuuri’s eyes blew wide and unseeing. For several long and gnarled seconds, there was only the silent scream of magic and Yuuri’s horrified trance, and then the force he exerted wavered, like he was trying to control it. But the grasp immediately slipped, and it all fell back in full-force. Yuuri’s whisper was shaky, hoarse, empty: “I can feel everything.” The words chilled Viktor, shot straight into his marrow, their meaning ambiguous yet so, so clear.

Then Yuuri’s knees buckled, but Viktor’s arms had long been itching for him, wanting to go to him by an energy and need much separate from the effect Yuuri now had on everything around them.

“That’s enough,” Yuri said. The protection was back instantly.

Viktor twisted the doorknob to Yuuri’s room and helped him inside, almost having to drag him to the bed.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Yuuri whispered, nearly weeping, and Viktor pulled him into his arms on the bed and held him to his chest, stroking his hair. They were left in cool darkness as Yuri shut the door for them. Makkachin had made it inside, and she curled up tensely at the door, smart enough to not whine. Just outside their door, Yuri held their protection, and Viktor was thankful.

“It’s okay, you’re going to be okay,” Viktor tried to comfort.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Yuuri kept repeating, and Viktor squeezed him tighter.

He said, “I’m not afraid of you, Yuuri. And you’ll never be alone with this.”

Something in his words quieted Yuuri, leaving him shivering in dreadful silence in Viktor’s arms.

In the darkness with only their breathing and contact, Viktor felt bold, like now he could tell Yuuri just why he’d never be alone. For as long as he would have him, Viktor would always be there. And if Yuuri could never learn to harness his magic, Viktor would stay by him and protect him.

But… Yuuri trembled again, breath hitching with the notion that he was indeed crying, and Viktor knew his words could wait. Instead, he’d be whatever Yuuri asked of him in the time being.

Perhaps Yuuri knew that, somehow. Because he said, “Viktor, can you… stay with me tonight?”

“You didn’t even have to ask.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMGGG,,, I did not mean for such a time gap between chapters. I had this written for so long, but the editing... agh. So sorry! I don't want to make promises I can't keep but there definitely shouldn't be a wait like that again! 
> 
> (PS. I LOVE YOU ALL. The little group of support for this story has continued growing and I'm speechless, always. <3 )


	14. In a House by the Sea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And I'm trying my best to be tough  
> To pretend I am strong and can siphon it off  
> But I'm not who I wanted to be  
> In my heart I belong in a house by the sea  
> [House by the Sea](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pEFxfVyz4Uc), Moddi

The shore was quiet now. No longer did people wade through the waves to cast healing incantations.

Replacing the healers were families relaxing by the shore with children bouncing where waves broke.

Yuuri stood where the water could reach his feet. Velvety and cool. The breeze caught the tips of waves and sprinkled water across Yuuri in soft showers, and the air swept its curling fingers through his hair.

Rough, roiling, and massive – sometimes it brought all too close the memory of that force closing in around Yuuri.

He still felt it, distantly.

Something happens when one looks out to sea – their thoughts slow, pace themselves, until they’re drifting backward. Yuuri found that watching the water was when it was easiest to pretend he wasn’t a vortex for the whole world to wash into.

He was getting better. Still, everyone was on-edge around him, watching for the next moment he’d slip up. And that was all it took – a moment’s hesitation, a moment’s forgetfulness, and if no one was there to catch the fallout… well, they’d been lucky so far.

But Yuuri knew he was constantly teetering on the edge of destruction.

He loved everyone for their protection, their help.

And that reminded him –

He turned his head to Viktor beside him. “The waves are languid today,” Yuuri said. Viktor was already watching him. Yuuri blushed, smiled – felt the coils of energy around them loosen, opening up to drag the world in fast. Yuuri forced his gaze back to the sea and took a deep breath to root into the sand.

“It is,” Viktor answered, and Yuuri was grateful as he had been as of late that Viktor didn’t seem afraid of him.

Yuuri was quite often afraid of himself.

A hand wrapped around Yuuri’s – carefully at first, as to not surprise him, and to ask if this was okay. Yuuri’s answer was given by fully clasping Viktor’s hand. 

It had been two days since he’d woken. Two chaotic, haphazard days, filled with the worried gazes of his friends and Viktor’s hopeful stare that never left his side.

There was so much to tell Viktor, but where was the time _now_ when the slightest change in his mood cast lines in new places of magic that threatened to reel in and capsize him?

Yuuri was a dangerous thing now. He constantly battled with himself over the notion that to let anyone stay around him was selfish. But Yuuri didn’t want to be alone and most of all – he wanted, _craved_ , Viktor’s company.

The sun had long started its descent that left paint streaked across the sky, peachy pink strokes over a washed-out blue canvas. But pretty colors promised the encroachment of darkness, and families were pulling away from the beach. It was time to go, lest they stay out here all night. Part of Yuuri wanted that because he dreaded going back into the city, crawling with people and sounds and distractions he had to constantly fight against. But he needed to practice. He couldn’t hide if he wanted a chance at living normally.

“We can go,” he said.

“We really don’t have to.”

Yuuri shook his head. “It’s getting cold.” It wasn’t.

They headed up the beach, still hand-in-hand. Tiny crabs scurried from underfoot like blown sand.

Yuuri fought against the way the world immediately turned loud when his feet left the embrace of the saltwater and his back was turned on the sea.

It was almost enough to black him out – the fact that he could feel… everything.

 _Everything_ spun out around him and he could touch what was so distant: the emotions of people in the city, the enchantments holding up old buildings, the protection charms lining the grounds, the old traces of magic used to charm away Clarufretus along walls and littered in the sand at the shores – so much of this Yuuri had never known was there, had never been told, but he felt it now.

And there was Viktor next to him, a beating heart full of such sturdy magic, a rock weighing into the paper-thin layer of charms and spells and living energies of the whole world, as all the wizards felt to be, but even so, Yuuri knew he could drag them into his orbit if he tried.

He felt it all notice him too; it pressed forward, ready to charge, and he mentally pushed out his defenses – but not too hard, lest he send the world stumbling back. Each new step he took brought new forces into his perspective. His range varied, fluctuating with the strength of his mood. He wished he could drag it into nothingness, make it all vanish.

“How are you feeling?” Viktor asked as they entered the city. Yuuri’s skin prickled with a hundred added obstacles.

“I’m okay,” he answered, but he knew Viktor saw the stitch of his brows, the focus of his expression.

Clarusilva hadn’t truly stopped celebrating since their apparent victory. The streets were roaring with cheers and laughter and lights, sweet smells of sugary treats sticky in the air. It was so much like that first night Viktor had brought Yuuri. Back then Yuuri was tense, confused, afraid.

And right now he was the same – how ironic, though, for he wanted nothing more than to celebrate with these people and with Viktor.

Yuuri scorned himself for not being better at this already. Instead, they trudged carefully through the festivities; Yuuri tried smiling to not look out-of-place.

People stared as they passed. Yuuri felt the twinge of sympathy – often dabbled with wonder or confusion – blink into existence at the sight of him.

The city had quickly learned who was responsible for their freedom. They’d also quickly learned to leave him alone.

Whispers were left in Yuuri’s wake as he passed. He didn’t mind.

Yuuri’s foot caught a cobblestone jutting out a little high; it was simple, a mere trip he quickly caught himself from with the brief aid of Viktor’s hand tugging him backward. But his concentration slipped and energy whipped around him as a sudden storm.

Crowds went silent as their candles fluttered out and their enchanted trinkets and charms shuddered. Glass shattered somewhere nearby.

And then Yuuri was steadied again, hands on his temples and eyes squeezed shut as he willed his barriers back up.  Viktor’s hands hovered a breadth’s distance from Yuuri, not daring to break his focus.

Stillness swept over the street again, and Yuuri sighed heavily into Viktor’s waiting hands. Viktor held him close and comforting as Yuuri made sure he could hold onto his control. At last Yuuri said, “Let’s go.”

“This way,” Viktor said, motioning down an alley. Yuuri changed directions without question, knowing the path to steer away from the bustle of crowds. Slightly awash with déjà vu, Yuuri let himself be led through the backways of Clarusilva until they reached home.

 

* * *

 

 

“Katsudon.”

Yuri stood at the edge of the couch. Yuuri set down the book he was trying to read. He’d been staring at the same sentence for a while now. His barrier slipped away all too fast when he let his mind wander into a book. It made for good practice, though.

Yuri’s presence was a blip on a map – a whitecap in the sea, a gust of wind on a still day. Yuuri could feel him shift moods like shifting feet, bouncing between affection and unsurety. He smiled at it – then the smile faded. He didn’t want to intrude on people’s emotions. He tried to block it out and pull a wall up between him and Yuri.

Across from him, Yuri stared with contemplation hardening his eyes. Yuuri must seem like a flopping fish. Gasping for air, floundering about.

But whatever lit his concern, he kept it to himself. He said, “Let me know if there’s anything I can do.”

Yuuri hadn’t thought of it before, but suddenly it clicked into place. There was something Yuri could help him with.

In Yuuri’s excitement, some of his walls melted away, and several spellbooks dragged off the shelves and hucked themselves to the ground. It made Yuuri laugh; there was manic absurdity in the notion that he was the one sending items spiraling instead of little Yuri.

Yuri’s eyes flickered between the fallen books and where Yuuri laughed. His eyebrows rose when Yuuri finally calmed.

“Yes, yes,” Yuuri managed through teary eyes. The air shuttered, glinted, threatened to be thrown out of balance but Yuuri held steadfast, confident now that he had an idea. “There’s something you can help me with.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Too fast!” Yuri yelled before the water shot to the ceiling. Yuuri sighed.

“Maybe I can’t actually do this.”

“You can, you can, you just have to….”

Yuri’s unspoken words splayed out in a web, and Yuuri was caught in its spidery wisps. He pulled it in, unintentionally, but he was caught by how much he could feel that Yuri _did_ believe in him. The distinct notion of belief was wound together with a determination that had a stormy flavor. 

“You’re not focusing,” Yuri scolded. Yuuri untangled himself, not happy to be prying again anyhow, and he steadied until the air only tingled against his skin rather than vibrated with hungry volume.

"Okay, Katsudon," Yuri said when he decided Yuuri was focused again. “I don’t know what you’re feeling exactly, but can you try to not imagine that the water is separate from everything else?”

Yuuri thought about that. And unconsciously, he was already searching for the bowl of water amidst the ruins of energy. It was like reaching blindly for his glasses in the dark – he reached toward the area he knew they were in, but their exact location he wouldn’t know until he felt for them. He sought the water, and when he had hold of it, the fact it was so was simply there – as explicit and true as one's fingers touching the rims of their glasses in a sightless room.

He lifted it up.

A memory from long ago of Viktor toiling with the water’s form echoed the action, and he modeled the movement of the water off that memory, partially entranced that _suddenly_ he was doing this.

Viktor’s presence – ever imprinted upon Yuuri’s vision now – edged closer until he emerged from the hall to watch.

When Yuuri at last let the water sink back into the bowl, Viktor clapped his hands together and Yuri walloped the air with a fist. His excitement spiked across Yuuri’s skin, fast and fearless.

Yuuri’s chest bloomed with warmth.

“Like a pro,” Viktor cheered, stepping forward. The words were laced in smile.

The warmth flowered to Yuuri’s face. The familiar, hypnotic heartbeat of affection reached him from the scant space between he and Viktor. Yuuri swallowed hard. Tried to not pry, _again_.

Or if he could only be fair and return the unintended gesture.

Even now, with all the truths of the world compressible at his fingertips, he had trouble believing this.

He looked from the bowl of water to his hands and wondered what else he could do.

 

* * *

 

 

And that he still wondered when Viktor took him to the forest. They thought being around a strong source of magic could block out some of the noise in Yuuri’s mind.

Viktor didn’t take them to that special first place. He didn’t say why; perhaps he hadn’t considered it an option, but more likely he knew it was far too near where Yuuri had become unraveled while the world sewed itself together again.

They found a place in the forest to stop, and Yuuri concentrated on the space they filled.

The forest suppressed some, though it was unsimilar to the way the ocean pulled Yuuri far, far away from everything. Here in the forest, thick trunks and leafy limbs smothered outside torrents of energy like cotton in Yuuri’s ears. If he focused harder, he could still very much grasp each spindle of energy.

And the magic was sticky and hot. Uncomfortable. The press of the outside world made Yuuri anxious, and he struggled in a whole new way to ground himself. The world still threatened to drag inward, slowly with creaking branches and wind whistling through leaves. Energy so delicately encased in both sides of the Kingdom was pulled inward despite resistance, like a thousand people with nails scraping against the dirt as they vainly clawed their way from Yuuri’s grasp.

He didn’t want this. He squeezed his eyes shut, blanketed the earth in his intention to not uproot it, until he felt the ground cease to tremble in his mind. He settled.

“I’m sorry,” Viktor said from before him.

“It’s okay, I thought it’d be better here too. And well, it is, but not how I thought it would be. I just wasn’t prepared.”

"You're still doing impeccably well. When you do lose focus and I do get to see inside what you're feeling, just for a moment... well, you're very strong, Yuuri."

Yuuri decided something on impulse. Because Viktor’s affection and more bled out like rainwater streaming through earth to meet him.

“Give me your hand,” Yuuri said.

Viktor chuckled lowly, a small hint of surprise and curiosity drizzled in. “All right.” He reached out and placed his hands in Yuuri’s waiting ones.

There would have been a time when putting himself on the spot would have horrified Yuuri to no end. But he’d looked what he once thought was death in the eyes and escaped, marred but whole, altered but still himself. And more than that, he understood there was no time to waste.

If at any moment the fabric of reality would rip apart and suffocate Yuuri, he needed to have the least amount of regrets possible. And if he succeeded in this, he was pretty sure he would have none.

Viktor’s hands were warm and steady – the hands of a wizard long accustomed to throwing them before him to ward off impurities or create something beautiful.

But Yuuri didn’t need to use his hands to spin his own threads.

He felt the space around them for its shape and took a moment to become familiar with it. Then he changed it.

Viktor’s quick intake of breath was enough to tell him he’d done something.

Yuuri pulled back the folds of his tightly woven guard, the layers that protected everything from him, to allow part of himself to bleed out. Glimmers of forest life and distant breaths of memories and moments tried to rush in and fill the gap, but he pressed forward so the ideas he wanted to convey were stronger than those wanting to overpower their space.

He sent Viktor flashes of his love. _Showed_ him everything in the way he now knew how. His admiration. His confusion and his longing and his wishes. The tiny dancing memories twirled from him into Viktor, and he felt Viktor’s heart glow as if Yuuri were instead holding hands with a hearth harboring a strong blaze.

“Yuuri,” Viktor breathed. Yuuri’s focus tangled in the sound of his name, and suddenly Viktor’s memories were parading back into Yuuri, and Yuuri drank them in fast, surprised but not disappointed.  

Though he hadn’t known the extent of the words Viktor had been holding onto.

Yuuri’s mind blew wide and the ground underneath him seemed to shudder, for he saw it: the ages of Viktor wandering Hasetsu, aimless but for one small hope. His impressions of Yuuri, the time-lapse of memories fleeting but showing the stages of something blossoming in an array of wonders. Viktor’s battle against the Yuuri that could save the Kingdom and the Yuuri that had lodged hooks into his heart.

The ideas flooded Yuuri’s senses and the earth echoed them back and forth among all its walls only Yuuri could feel; Yuuri wasn’t sure if he only felt it in his mind’s eye, or if the dirt and roots actually writhed with energy. He couldn’t tear himself away.

Viktor again said, “Yuuri,” but the syllables were barely-audible whispers, and Viktor reached for the space directly behind Yuuri. His hand was suddenly on his lower back and pulling him in, and then Viktor kissed him.

The earth really must have trembled – it felt too real to be imaginary. Viktor held tight to the one hand he still touched of Yuuri’s, but Yuuri’s other hand fled the ghost of touch to reach the back of Viktor’s neck. He dragged it up into his hair, fine strands he distantly realized he never had touched before – and he let himself fall deep, deep into the kiss. His and Viktor’s mutual feelings sprung up around them and Yuuri felt enveloped in a soft shield of warm light, like the forest canopy had been lifted and the sun’s light shone upon them without the typical harshness of its rays.

Yuuri’s chest held its own sun, and every beat of his heart pummeled into Viktor’s as a wave, and Viktor’s crashed back, each collision a new taste of each other’s lips. Until finally, parting, one set of hands still clasped tight, they pressed their foreheads together and breathed.

“Yuuri, I – don’t know where to start,” Viktor managed without moving apart.

Yuuri beamed and pulled their hands to his chest. “You’ve already showed me everything.”

They pulled apart mere centimeters, faces wide with gleaming happiness, but then they both fell into distraction at the space around them.

Thick roots had sprouted from the earth to encircle them. They braided together as a wreathe, brown arms twined over one another to form a thick barrier crawling upward. Vines managed to entwine themselves within the arms of the roots, and from them sprouted flowers. Yuuri blinked.

Purple flowers. Familiar and – but Yuuri’s stomach swooned at the thought. He shook his head: it didn’t make sense, nor did it matter.

“Did you do that?” Viktor asked, gaping around them. The roots only spanned about a meter high. They’d at least be able to climb out.

“I think _we_ did,” was Yuuri’s reply.

Viktor laughed, causing Yuuri to start, and his heart jumped for fear of losing his control, but the world remained still. So he let himself laugh lightly too. Viktor still held his hand, and his other hand raised to rest on his shoulder as he continued to snicker. Yuuri leaned into the many touches, the small embraces of contact.

“You’ll always have something to surprise me with,” Viktor said at the end of a laugh.

Yuuri wondered at the implication of always, the inference that their time together would continue to be lengthy. He knew it was silly to continue to wonder, what with their combined selves actually uprooting this small section of earth, but he hoped – he hoped so dearly that Viktor wished similar things as he.

 

* * *

 

 

The sky’s gray blended into the ocean. Yuuri sat in the sand and inhaled the sweet breeze blowing up from the water; next to him, Viktor did the same, relaxing his muscles through his body all the way down to the hand that held Yuuri’s against the sand.

The day had been exhausting. Yuuri insisted traveling with Viktor and the others while they helped devise the next steps for Amorglaci. Yuuri hoped maybe he would find a way to make use of himself, but the crowds of people and the travel drained his energies fast, and his ability to hold together slipped randomly.

Phichit met them on the beach, quietly hand-in-hand with Seung-Gil. 

Yuuri smiled at his friend’s interlocked hands. Their affection pulsed like a heartbeat, softly.

Viktor turned to greet them with a warm smile. “Hey, you two.”

“Hi!” Phichit greeted; Seung-Gil mumbled the same, albeit quieter.

“Any news?”

Before they answered, they settled into the sand beside Yuuri, though at an angle so they could face the couple. They leaned on one another discreetly, still modest with their relationship. Yuuri unconsciously dug his fingers into the sand, slipping them further in between the gaps of Viktor’s.

“Just updates,” Phichit said. “It’s been approved to clear a path through the forest for a road between the cities. And then we’re going to plant trees for all the ones removed for the road, and then some.”

Seung-Gil looked toward the sea. For someone from a city that had spent so much effort on ignoring the abyss lapping at its toes, it must be quite enchanting.

“Perfect,” Viktor said. “I’m glad plans are going smoothly.”

Phichit hesitated on the brink of more words. He glanced at Seung-Gil, but his eyes had set sail.

“Everything okay?” Yuuri asked with a concerned tilt of his head.

“Yes.” Though Phichit worried his lower lip. His eyes panned from Seung-Gil to the ocean too, as if he longed to reach wherever his companion had gone.

The image splashed across Yuuri’s mind. His eyes dropped and he withheld a sigh. Just like that, he knew. His heart twisted with guilt. He didn’t want to know before his friend told him, but it was too late. Still, he waited, until finally Phichit said, - with eyes shifting between the sand and the horizon, - “We are moving to Clarufretus.”

"Or well!" Phichit added with heightened pitch, startling Seung-Gil from his dreams. "I am. Becuase Seung-Gil already lives there and stuff."

But Yuuri smiled at the spoken decision. “That’s amazing for you two,” he said. "Clarufretus needs a journalist like you."

"We actually do," Seung-Gil asserted. Phichit ducked his head. 

 

* * *

 

 

Every day Yuuri woke with slightly more control on himself.

But this was him standing in the sand at the ocean's edge, water dragging sand over his feet until he was buried in the world, planted in it so deeply he could hardly budge lest he break its surface. He was losing himself in the ebb and flow of life - laughs and talks were interrupted by deep stares out the window as he felt the weight of the forest root him deep and fill his ears with fluff. Or the brilliant, murky depths that drowned so sweetly.

It wasn't all bad though - he could paint again.

And learning magic wasn't without its perks.

"Viktor, hold out your hands," Yuuri said, interrupting a tangent of questions Viktor had been delivering. Yuuri's new interpretations of the world charmed Viktor, and on Yuuri's better days, Viktor asked questions about how things felt across his consciousness. This gave Yuuri an idea.

"What are you -" Viktor started. But he took in Yuuri's curious gait and grinned. He held out both hands. "Okay."

Yuuri took them and felt their pull on his heart, their now-familiar warmth and warm aura of home. He tried to glaze over those feelings and focus on his intentions, but he felt Viktor's own internal distractions. "Hey, focus," Yuuri teased.

Viktor huffed lowly, amused, but otherwise quieted. Yuuri closed his eyes.

There was darkness behind his eyelids and he let himself sink into it. He pulled Viktor with him, not as Viktor but as an extension of himself linked by their hands, letting his mind slip from the fit of their hands together but as if they were simply one.

They sank lower into the darkness, boulders barreling through dark waters, down down down, water thick in their ears so the only active sense was that strange sixth one that seemed to be Yuuri's primary source of external stimuli anymore.

People shifted through the city like ghosts, fading in and out of clarity with the loudness of their emotions. Blips of charms and enchantments, some near as the living room, others distance at far-reaches of Clarusilva and even Clarufretus whispered into Yuuri's mind. If he locked onto any of them, he'd be let inside their purposes.

The sweat and heat of workers laying a road through the forest prickled Yuuri's neck - it was a strange mix of exhaustion and hope as the new foundation - a symbolic step in the strive for peace between the two halves of the Kingdom - was lain. And their was also the grey, cottony taste of death as parts of the forest were cut. But then there was flashes of bright, young shades of yellow from the edges of the forest as others planted new trees. Many volunteers for this were children, and their playful attitudes bled bright blue into their work. The magic of a child's heart was significant, Yuuri had noticed, and they unknowingly planted pieces of it into the earth.

A wind grazed the canopies of the forest and startled its leaves, gently swirling magic at the surface. Everyone touched by the shade of trees paused a moment. The forest breathed with the wind, then was silent again. The people looked about themselves, shrugged, and returned to their work.

Beyond the Kingdom the rest of the world waited for Yuuri's touch, distant blue-ridged mountains looming on the horizon, un-detailed but refusing to be forgotten.

Yuuri let his sight wash over Viktor, consume Viktor, just as it consumed Yuuri's every waking moment. Viktor's breath held at the sights; Yuuri strained to not smile.

It was beautiful at times. At least when there was peace.

What he decided next wasn't something he would often recommend, but this was a special circumstance.

Yuuri let his guard down. For just a second.

Viktor gasped. The scenes they felt became distorted and a fearsome pressure reigned in. Random scatterings of persons more perceptive to the change noticed the shift; many nearby noticed, and they looked toward the house they knew the strange alteration emanated from. From downstairs, Yuri and Yakov looked up in alarm.

But then Yuuri put a cap on them, and all stilled. He brought them back to the living room.

When they opened their eyes, Viktor looked a thousand words, but first he startled at the mess.

They hadn't heard the typical books and antiques falling to the floor and dragging toward them. Everything lay in a circle of spindles with them at the center.

"Why do we even bother cleaning them up," Viktor whispered idly. And then his eyes were on Yuuri, and they were almost glistening, and Yuuri was actually taken aback. Was Viktor about to cry? He hadn't meant for that. Perhaps he'd overstepped his bounds by showing what he felt. He should have explained what he meant to do first. Yuuri didn't want to pry himself into Vitkor's feelings to better understand his unspoken thoughts in that moment, but they still pressed into his skin with eager force. Perhaps because they still held hands, or Viktor's heart knew Yuuri's heart too well.

Viktor said, "Aren't you tired, Yuuri?"

Yuuri opened his mouth to answer with a laugh or anything predictable. But an answer collapsed upon him like the world did every day.

It came as silence.

Because to voice the truth would break him and break his work – and what if one day he hurt someone?

The unwelcomed scene of Yuuri bringing the entire house down during some nightmare in the night, where he had the least control, flashed in his mind. Perhaps when he was locked in a moment of recalling that fiery day where he had his first taste of the perils of war. Or that sense of drowning that brought both cold horror and flooding relief. 

And then the thought was gone, locked away in the dark with other Bad Things.

Viktor still held Yuuri’s hand, and he squeezed it briefly – Yuuri looked up at him, his glasses nudging down his face. 

“Yuuri,” Viktor began slowly, watching him with wavering eyes as if wary of speaking too much for Yuuri to handle. “I have an idea. One I’ve been thinking about a while.”

Something warm glowed inside Viktor, reminding Yuuri of the hearth.

“Tell me.”

 

* * *

 

 

Yuuri put his all into dinner that night, with Viktor cleaning the dining table and setting out their newest dishes.

Yuri was eager to take refuge from the shop, though Yakov was harder to persuade. Though he acquiesced quickly once the aroma of Yuuri’s cooking wafted down through the floorboards.

It was then, over the cling of silverware and among the glinting sparkles of glass, that Yuuri reached for Viktor’s hand under the table.

Viktor jumped right in – Yuuri had little doubt he’d only been waiting for him to show when he was ready.

“Yura, Yakov,” he started, slow but strong enough that the two set down their forks and looked up. “Yuuri and I have been talking. And in light of recent… events, we have made a decision.”

“We’re moving,” Yuuri willed himself to voice. Viktor flashed him a small, appraising gaze, before washing the others with intense eyes.

Yuri and Yakov were plaintive with blank stares. If there were a clock nearby, it’d be ticking, counting away the seconds where no one said anything of particular importance or emotion.

And then Yuri: “Did you guys think… we thought you were just going to stay here?”

“Well, there's the shop, and the city,” Viktor countered.

“Vitya, it’s only about time you go live your life for yourself and not others. Now is as good a time as ever.”

“Maybe not all for himself, Yakov, I don’t know,” Yuri chided with a hand partway covering his mouth as he leaned an elbow on the table and pressed forward, eyes somehow boring through the table as if he could see the two interlocked hands.

Yuuri pursed his lips to avoid grinning, unable to stop a swell of happiness and pride. So they knew.

“Well either way, where to?” Yakov prodded at a piece of food with his fork.

Viktor looked to Yuuri to make sure it was okay to continue, and Yuuri smiled.

“Yuuri doesn’t know these lands, but I had an idea,” Viktor carried on. “Over the mountains past Clarufretus. Or well, on them. At their furthest extent westward, but where there’s sight of the ocean.”

Yuuri picked up, knowing he needed to explain this part. “The ocean helps me. It’s where I feel most in control of myself. I think if I was close to it, where I could hear it all the time, but where I didn’t have to be constantly worried about bringing down an entire city… I could learn about – this.” He gestured with one hand to himself, all of himself. “About me.”

Yakov poked another piece of food, lining bits along his fork like a kabob, not taking a bite. “Well that’s good you two have something figured out. I know someone who can help getting a place put up there. I’ll contact then first thing in the morning.”

“Oh, that would he amazing,” Yuuri said.

“Hey, though!” Yuri piped, leaning forward so fast the table scooted. “You two lovebirds have to promise one thing! VISIT, and make sure your place is reachable by ocean travel.”

 

* * *

 

 

Yakov didn’t take another bite of dinner after that.

Instead, when everyone was cleaning up, he called Yuuri into the hall. There, light was dimmed, and the close walls felt safe. That was when Yuuri realized that he and Yakov understood each other on some level.

Yakov stared to the floor, to the wall, the ceiling, and sometimes – sometimes – at Yuuri as he spoke. “I never thanked you properly for what you’ve done for this place. And for Vitya, and Yura. And well, that – that’s all I guess. Thank you. You and Vitya – you’ll take good care of each other.”

Mouth half open, Yuuri sought the words to say in return – and when he saw there were none, he hurried forward before he was swayed otherwise and hugged Yakov. Yakov stiffened, settled, and then Yuuri already pulled back. Yuuri nodded curtly.

Yakov stared directly into his eyes and blinked slowly. Perhaps he nodded slightly, too.

They turned and rejoined the others.

 

* * *

 

 

“Headed westward?” Chris jeered. “You two are quick to take flight.”

“Okay, Chris,” Viktor grinned at his old friend. Yuuri felt the sting in Viktor's heart though, and it was mirrored by Chris’s own. He swallowed hard and forced a social smile and did his best to ignore the way these two friends hurt parting.

“You’ll visit, right?” Yuuri prompted. “We will too.”

“Of course! Plus I’m actually moving to Clarufretus, so I’ll be closer.”

Viktor raised his eyebrows. “What’s there for you?”

Chris tilted his head to the side, canted his hips some, and looked flirtatiously off to the side at nothing. “Do you remember that guy from a long time ago?”

“I do.”

“Well, he was on the King’s guard. Got wrapped up real bad in Vavara’s witchcraft.”

“Oh my god,” Viktor laughed, running fingers through his hair. “That makes so much sense.”

Chris adverted his eyes to Yuuri. “Yuuri, long story short: I was with someone who suddenly went total totalitarian mindset. He refused to associate with me because I lived in Clarusilva, was totally into the whole Queen Vavara thing. So obviously it stopped working out.”

“That’s fantastic then,” Yuuri replied.

“Yeah, I’d say,” Chris said. “We’ve been talking since the war ended and it’s been great. I guess I have you to thank for this in a way, Yuuri.”

“It’s – it’s okay,” Yuuri was fast to stammer.

“We will invite you to the house warming party,” Viktor said. “And he’s invited.”

 

* * *

 

 

“To think it all started here, in my hometown.”

“I think about that too.”

The people trickled through streets slower still than the city, but there was an lightnes draped across the town that hadn’t been there in years. Even despite Yuuri’s new sight, he could touch the difference. There was no longer the burdensome storm of misfortune and dread lurking corners, looming behind shop windows, and trailing along shadows of townies.

Finally, Hasetsu could heal.

Had begun to, even.

Yuuri’s family had been both overjoyed and relieved upon his visit – and Yuuri, with Viktor’s help, told them everything.

The honey warm glow of light and love inside his home, with that new mixture of hope blowing in off the ocean, ballooned within Yuuri’s chest. It was a happiness almost too much to bear. He smiled and Viktor kept his arm around him, and his family grinned, and they were all happy. Yuuri wondered if perhaps this was always there, possibly even hidden in the coals of those darker days. Small embers keeping the light alive, and he’d been too focused on the lack of heat to notice not all had frozen over.

But whatever. He was here now.

“Oh, Yuuri! Look!” Viktor tugged Yuuri along faster, pointing toward the art shop window. “I told you Yuuko loved it.”

The painting of fish sat propped up behind the shop’s display window. Yuuri donated his first painting from Clarusilva to the shop the day before, fulfilling a promise of long, long ago.

Yuuri placed a hand to his chest. “Yuuko,” he whispered softly. Viktor placed a hand on his shoulder. Yuuri thought he was about to comment on the painting, but he was looking toward Hasetsu’s sky. The breeze caught Viktor’s hair and tried to lift it skyward. Viktor’s eyes were far away. For a moment – he was a statue of ice, pure and untouchable. Thinking whatever thoughts. They reached Yuuri and fell like snow against his skin, melting quick and cool before Yuuri could catch their true image.

Yuuri wanted to hone his attention on how artistic Viktor was, how irrediescent and like a living canvas he was – and just how much he sometimes couldn’t believe he’d fallen so surely into the life of such a person.

But he was left cavernous at the intruding world. It carved him out – and this was why he needed to go somewhere. Somewhere to be him for longer than a moment.

There was another matter, though.

“Is this right, Viktor?”

“Is what right?” Viktor was pulled back to earth easily; he quickly rooted back to the ground, was warm again – but Yuuri was marred by his own doubts. He dropped his eyes to their held hands.

“I know you suggested moving. But is it right for me to take you from everyone? And everything? Doesn’t that make you sad? I don’t want you to resent me one day. If you don’t already.”

There was a pause long enough for a shiver. Viktor said, “Have you really been thinking that?”

“Well, some. Yes.”

“Aren’t you sad to move?”

Yuuri didn’t understand the point of the question. Was it a trick question?

Viktor continued before making Yuuri face the answer, because they both already knew. “You are, and I am. It’s both sad and happy, I think. But did you see how happy everyone else has been for us? This is a good thing, Yuuri.”

“Yeah, I guess I know that… but you’re sure?”

Viktor’s eyes flashed wild and he looked to be battling a smile, but his words stiffened Yuuri. “About that, there is _one_ thing.”

Ice crested over Yuuri’s heart. “Y-yes?”

“I love you. Of COURSE I’m sure. I want to be with you, I don’t know how else to be more sure, honestly.”

Heat cracked the ice. Yuuri’s face reddened. “But to the top of the mountain, Viktor? Away from everyone?”

“To beautiful solitude, Yuuri? With the person I love and two poodles? Overlooking the entire kingdom?”

Yuuri’s mouth hung open to argue more, but nothing left him but a laugh, and it was filled with spring waters that washed out those doubts.

With warmth, Viktor smiled down at him.

“Also, Viktor?”

“Hm?”

“I love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [skateonme](http://skateonme.tumblr.com/)
> 
>  
> 
> once more, dears ♥


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